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FRANCIS PARKMAN 



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THE OREGON TRAIL 



BY 



FRANCIS PARKMAN 



EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
BY CLARENCE WALTON VAIL, A. M., INSTRUCTOR 
IN THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH IN THE 
MANUAL TRAINING HIGH SCHOOL, BROOKLYN 




NEW YORK 
CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY 






MtvtiiVB ?EngltBlj EtxtB 

This series of books includes in complete editions those mas- 
terpieces of Englisir Literature that are best adapted for the 
use of schools and colleges. The editors of the several volumes 
will be chosen for their special qualifications in connection with 
the texts issued under their individual supervision, but famili- 
arity with the practical needs of the classroom, no less than 
sound scholarship, characterizes the editing of every book in 
the series. 

In connection with each text a critical and historical intro- 
duction, including a sketch of the life of the author and his 
relation to the thought of his time, critical opinions of the work 
in question chosen from the great body of English criticism, 
and, where possible, a portrait of the author, are given. Ample 
explanatory notes of such passages in the text as call for special 
attention are supplied, but irrelevant annotation and explana- 
tions of the obvious are rigidly excluded. 

CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY 



Copyright, 1910 

BY 

CHARLES E. MERRILL CO. 



C(.A:^75875 



PREFACE 

This masterpiece of Parkman's — The Oregon Trail — should 
appeal to secondary-school students through its direct narration 
of life in the wilderness nearly seventy years ago, through its 
graphic and accurate representation of Indian manners and 
customs, and through its strict veracity and lucidity of style. 
The present editor has restored the text of The Oregon Trail 
as it appeared originally in The Knickerbocker Magazine in 
1847-1849, feeling that Parkman, in revising his work for 
later editions, was unfortunate in omitting portions which 
gave greater virility and freer expression of self than are found 
in the revised form. The notes have been arranged with the 
view of relieving the student of needless search for explanations 
and of adding such comments as would stimulate interest in 
this "plain tale from the hills." 

G. W. V. 

November 1, 1910. 



CONTENTS 

PAGES 

Introduction 

Francis Parkman « 7 

The Oregon Country . . „ . o o 13 

The Oregon Trail 

I. The Frontier 21 

II. Breaking the Ice 32 

III. Fort Leavenworth . . . 47 

IV. "Jumping Off". 52 

V. The " Big Blue " 67 

VI. The Platte and the Desert 92 

VII. The Buffalo 110 

VIII. Taking French Leave 132 

IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie 154 

X. The War Parties 174 

XI. Scenes at the Camp 204 

XII. Hunting Indians 240 

XIII. The Ogallallah Village 273 

XIV. The Hunting Camp 302 

XV. The Trappers 334 

XVI. The Black Hills 348 

XVII. A Mountain Hunt 354 

XVIII. Passage of the Mountains 371 

5 



6 CONTENTS 

XIX. The Lonely Journey 395 

XX. The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 423 

XXI. Tete Rouge, The Volunteer 433 

XXII. Indian Alarms 440 

XXIII. The Buffalo Camp 456 

XXIV. Down the Arkansas 490 

XXV. The Settlements 515 

Notes 531 

Topics and Questions for Study 550 



INTRODUCTION 

FRANCIS PARKMAN 

In Boston, Massachusetts, Francis Parkman, eldest son of 
the Reverend Francis Parkman, was born September 16, 1823. 
The father, pastor of the New North Church in Boston, was 
a wise and genial humorist, with much scholarly knowledge, 
but very conservative in feelings and opinions. "He still 
survives in traditions of an abundant and exquisite humor," 
says Lowell, "provoked to wilder hazards and set in stronger 
relief (as in Sterne) by the decorum of his cloth." The mother 
was an example of the best type of New England woman. 
With her, devotion to her husband and children was a sacred 
duty. Parkman derived more traits from his mother than 
from any other of his ancestors. 

From eight to thirteen years of age Parkman hved on his 
grandfather's farm at Medford, just out of Boston, and attended 
Chauncy Hall School, where he was a serious student. In 1840 
he entered Harvard College in the class of '44, and after gradua- 
tion he attended the Law School. During his college course 
he devoted himself chiefly to the study of rhetoric and history, 
to the acquirement of a well-developed body through physical 
training, and to gaining a knowledge of America lying west of 
the Mississippi River. For the greater part of his four years at 
Harvard he roomed by himself — a condition which shows his 
reserved and studious nature. 

During his college vacations he began explorations and 
accumulated experiences that were to fit him for his work as 

7 



8 INTRODUCTION 

a writer on American history. In 1841 he passed through 
the New England states and penetrated into Canada as far 
as the junction of the Magalloway and the Little Magalloway 
rivers; and in 1842 he made a second trip to the Magalloway, 
this time visiting places in New York State made memorable 
in the Revolutionary War. In 1843, on another trip to Canada 
for historical material, he visited Quebec, and returned to 
Boston by way of Lake Memphremagog and the Connecticut 
River. In 1844, with his rifle as his sole companion, he walked 
over the hills of western Massachusetts, to inform himself of 
the routes followed by the French and the Indians in their 
wars against that region. 

Parkman now began to crystallize the impressions gathered 
during these four vacation trips into a definite work, The 
Conspiracy of Pontiac. In April, 1845, he went as far west 
as St. Louis, and spent the summer collecting material for 
this book. In 1846 came his most adventurous and important 
journey, the trip described in The Oregon Trail. 

Finding his health in a wretched condition at the close of his 
Oregon Trail expedition, he spent the greater part of the two 
succeeding years (1847-48) in New York City and at West 
New Brighton, Staten Island, in the care of an oculist, and at 
Brattleboro, Vermont, to better his health in general. But 
illness and failing eyesight could not discourage him. In the 
autumn of 1846, like Milton composing Paradise Lost, he 
dictated The Oregon Trail and then took up Pontiac. He 
went back to Boston in 1849, having gained little good from 
the treatment of the "medical faculty." There, with the 
help of his friend Charles Eliot Norton in revising proof, he 
was able to prepare The Oregon Trail for publication in book 
form. 

In 1850 he was married to Miss Catherine Bigelow, a 
daughter of Dr. Jacob Bigelow. They settled in a small 
cottage at Milton Lower Falls, where with a small income he 
found some difficulty in meeting the expenses of a domestic 
establishment. Afterward he resided for a year or two in a 



FRANCIS PARKMAN 9 

house in Brookline. When at the death of his father in 1852 
he came into the possession of money, he bought about three 
acres of land on the shore of Jamaica Pond, near Boston. 
Here was the cottage in which he lived for the rest of his life. 

In 1851 Parkman published Pontiac, and began the assem- 
bling of material for his series of works on American history, 
writing at the same time a few reviews of historical works for 
the Christian Examiner. But this activity was hindered and 
finally stopped, for inflammation in the joints of one of his 
knees, by depriving him of his usual exercise, greatly weakened 
his general health. Even horseback riding was not always 
possible. To physical suffering was added deep grief. His 
only son died in 1857, at the age of three years, and the next 
year his wife died. The education and care of his two daugh- 
ters were assumed by his sister-in-law, Miss Bigelow, a for- 
tunate arrangement, since the state of his brain made it 
imperative for him to work amid the utmost quietness. 

Soon after the death of his wife, he went to Europe and 
passed the winter of 1858-59 in Paris. So critical was the 
condition of his brain at this time that the foremost specialists 
of Paris warned him against insanity and forbade all liter- 
ary labor. He returned home without improvement in his 
condition. 

That Parkman was now facing the worst epoch of his life 
there can be no doubt. It seemed as if he would be an invalid 
for life, and that his long-cherished dream of a series of works 
on American history would never be realized. But he bravely 
met "the enemy," and won a remarkable victory in the 
shaping of his life. For several years — until returning health 
permitted him to resume his literary work — he devoted him- 
self to gardening. In spite of such handicaps as sensitive 
eyes and inability to w^alk or to stand upright, he soon became 
so successful a grower of flowers that the Massachusetts 
Horticultural Society elected him a member for life. He was 
generous with his flowers, and glad to fill the hands of any 
passer-by who evinced an interest in them. It is said that 



10 INTRODUCTION 

he had at one time a thousand different kinds of roses in his 
garden. 

During the period from 1851 to 1866 he produced a few- 
book reviews, the novel Vassal Morton (1856), and The Book 
of Roses (1866). In the latter year he journeyed to Canada, 
making an extended stay at Quebec to study in detail the 
scenes connected with Wolfe's attack. In 1867, desiring 
again to see the Indians in their native state, he made a trip 
to the West as far as Fort Snelling, meeting in St. Louis his 
old friend Henry Chatillon, so closely associated with him 
during the days of the Oregon Trail trip. The year 1868 saw 
a return of his old disorder, which made further literary work 
impossible; and as he preferred to spend the period of enforced 
idleness in Paris, he went abroad for the winter. In the spring 
of 1869 his health was sufficiently restored to permit his return 
to America and a renewal of his writing, with the result that 
in this year La Salle' was published. 

In 1872 he went again to Europe in pursuit of material for his 
historical series. In the following year, wishing to know the 
French Canadians through personal contact, he spent some 
weeks visiting several families who lived on their ancestral 
estates on the shores of the St. Lawrence near Quebec. In 
1874 appeared The Old Regime, followed by Frontenac in 1877. 
The years between the publication of this latter work and the 
appearance of Montcalm and Wolfe in 1884 were spent in 
careful study of the battlefields along the route from Lake 
George to Quebec. In 1886 he camped for a month on the 
Batiscan River with Mr. Charles H. Farnham, who has since 
written an admirably appreciative biography of the historian. 
"A delightful companion he was," writes the biographer, 
"interested in all the labors and pleasures of camp life, cheerful 
and patient under all circumstances. . . . He was a fair 
shot, even at that age and after so long disuse of firearms. . . . 
The most interesting manifestation of his personality was his 
mute approaches to nature after so many years of separation. 
He would look up at a bold bluff that arose several hundred 



FRANCIS PARKMAN 11 

feet above the river, as if fain to scale once more such lofty 
cliffs. Often he would get into the canoe and float down the 
river for a glimpse of our neighbors, a family of beaver." 

The culmination of Parkman's work as an historian was 
reached in 1892 when he published A Half Century of Conflict, 
a happy evidence of powers unimpaired and hopes realized. 
After this he wrote nothing more. Henceforth his life was a 
peaceful decline, with comparative surcease of pain. He had 
energetically striven to live until his work should be done. 
Now the freedom from anxiety as to the completion of his 
work brought both satisfaction and peace. On Sunday, the 
fifth of November, he had been rowing on Jamaica Pond. 
On coming into the house he felt ill; peritonitis set in, and he 
died peacefully about noon of Wednesday, November 8, 1893. 
He was buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery at Cambridge. 

Parkman's contemporaries understood how great a light 
he had shed on his time. Three colleges — McGill, Williams, 
and Harvard — conferred on him the degree of LL.D. He 
was a member of at least thirty historical societies in the United 
States, Canada, and England, and was Professor of Horti- 
culture at Harvard and an Overseer of the same university. 

The personal description of Parkman by Charles H. Farn- 
ham is perhaps the best. "Parkman was a little above medium 
height," he writes in his Life, "of an erect, well-built frame, 
with square shoulders and good muscular development, but 
spare and sinewy in habit. Only in his last year or two did 
he allow himself to grow stout, following his physician's 
recommendation in the hope of thus becoming less nervous 
and sleepless. On horseback, especially, he was a dashing 
and martial figure. He had dark hair, and a w^holesome 
color quite foreign to the traditional pallor of the student. 
His head and features were somewhat angular, with a chin of 
most exceptional prominence and strength. His gray, pene- 
trating eyes were, in youth, of good size, but in later years 
they seemed smaller because of chronic inflammation of the 
lids. . . . His thin face, always smooth-shaven, generally 



12 INTRODUCTION 

wore a grave, thoughtful expression, but frank and friendly; 
strength and alertness combined with kindliness to give it 
distinction. His mouth, though expressive chiefly of inflexible 
firmness, was very mobile. His smile was often remarked 
for its expressiveness; it reminded me always of these traits 
of Morton: 'the heroic calm, the mind tranquil with conscious- 
ness of power.' Parkman's smile expressed a full conscious- 
ness of his strength and victory in life; and it often had a very 
clear address to you by the penetrating look he sent for a 
moment into your eyes." 

"In looking back over his life one is struck with his prodi- 
gious strength of character. He was ready to face the universe 
if nature would play him fair. She had played him foul, 
yet she could not prevent his victory. In his patient fortitude 
under suffering, in his persistent industry despite the greatest 
obstacles, and in his fidelity to his ideals, Parkman was cer- 
tainly one of the most heroic figures in the history of letters." — 
Farnham, Life of Francis Parkman. 

"No one could know him in the intimacy of friendship 
without becoming conscious that Francis Parkman had 
by nature an intellect of the highest order, and that it had 
been held back from the conflict into which its possessor was 
as eager to enter as the tiger is to secure its prey. His mind 
was eager and restless by nature to the last degree. To will 
a thing with him was to accomplish it, but when he found 
that his life work depended upon his self-control, and that it 
was only through heroic self-restraint that he could do what 
he had planned, he had the power of will to yield and to con- 
quer. His achievement was great, but it was produced under 
difficulties which showed the man to be greater than his 
work." — Julius H. Ward, The Forum, December, 1893. 

"Thus great in his natural powers and great in the use he 
made of them, Parkman was no less great in his occasion and 
in his theme. Of all American historians he is the most 



THE OREGON COUNTRY 13 

deeply and peculiarly American, yet he is at the same time the 
* broadest and most cosmopolitan. The book which depicts 
at once the social life of the Stone Age and the victory of the 
English political ideal over the ideal which France inherited 
from imperial Rome is a book for all mankind and for all time. 
The more adequately men's historic perspective gets adjusted, 
the greater will it seem. Strong in its individuality and like 
nothing else beside, it clearly belongs, I think, among the 
world's few masterpieces of the highest rank along with the 
works of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Gibbon." — John Fiske, 
The Atlantic Monthly, May, 1894. 

THE OREGON COUNTRY 

At the time Parkman took the notes that formed the basis 
of the work entitled The Oregon Trail, the name Oregon was 
applied to the southern portion of the northwest coast of the 
United States — the area which is drained by the Columbia 
River. The name was adopted in the belief (no doubt, false) 
that such was the name given by the native Indians to the 
chief river of this rogion — a term which in their language 
signifies good or jinc. From the east this region was shut off 
by the high range of the Rocky Mountains and on the west 
by the unexplored waters of the Pacific Ocean. To the south 
stretched arid plains; and to the north, fields of ice and snow. 
Within these boundaries lay "rough quarries, rocks, and hills 
whose heads touch heaven"; and the "forest primeval" 
stretched in quiet solitude except where the rivers brawled in 
rapids or roared in foaming cataracts. Here dwelt the ani- 
mals of the wilds, and deep in the bosom of the hills lay "un- 
sunned heaps" of gold. 

The first white men to visit this Oregon Country were 
Spanish explorers, who came from Mexico in 1539. They 
carried back accounts of a country abounding in gold and 
precious stones and inhabited by a people more numerous and 



14 INTRODUCTION 

civilized than those in either Mexico or Peru. Further explora- 
tions were made by other Spanish voyagers, and during the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries British, Dutch, and 
French adventurers landed on the coast of the Pacific and 
traded in furs with the Indians of that region. 

Captain Jonathan Carver, of Connecticut, formed a project, 
in 1774, to cross the American continent with a large party 
by way of the Oregon and Missouri rivers to the Pacific, but 
the outbreak of the Revolutionary War caused this scheme to 
be given .up. In 1779 Captain Cook, the famous English 
navigator, proved that there was no passage by water between 
the two oceans; but by his explorations he showed the advan- 
tages which could be derived from the acquisition of furs from 
the Oregon land and the sale of them in China, where high 
prices could be obtained. 

Within a short period after the establishment of the fur 
trade in the northwest country, citizens of the United States 
appeared in the North Pacific to share in the advantages of 
this industry. In 1787 the ship Columbia and the sloop 
Washington, fitted out by a company of merchants in Boston, 
rounded Cape Horn and arrived on the coast of Oregon in 
about a year's time. In 1791 no less than seven vessels from 
the United States anchored off the coast of Oregon to trade in 
furs. Among these seven ships was the Columbia, which 
dropped anchor in a stream at a distance of about twenty 
miles from its mouth. On leaving the river, Captain Gray 
bestowed upon it the name of his ship. 

While these surveys of the Pacific Coast of North America 
were in progress, Alexander Mackenzie, a Scotchman in the 
service of the fur-trading association known as the Northwest 
Company, made his way up the Peace River from the east, 
over the Rocky Mountains, and then overland directly west- 
ward to the Pacific, thus demonstrating that only by land 
could the American continent be crossed. 

Even before the Louisiana Province was ceded to the United 
States, President Thomas Jefferson, with characteristic prompt- 



THE OREGON COUNTRY 15 

ness and wisdom, was making ready to have that part of tht 
continent examined by American agents. In January, 1803, 
he sent to Congress a confidential message asking that means 
be provided for that purpose immediately. His plans having 
been approved, he commissioned Lewis and Clark to explore 
the Missouri and its principal branches to their sources, and 
then to seek and trace to its termination in the Pacific some 
stream, "whether the Columbia, the Oregon, the Colorado, 
or any other which might offer the most direct and practicable 
water communication across the continent for the* purposes 
of commerce. " 

The explorations of Lewis and Clark, begun in 1804 and 
completed in 1806, made known the situation of the sources 
of the Columbia and traced the course of that river to the sea. 
On the strength of the report submitted by these explorers, 
the United States laid claim to the country henceforward known 
as Oregon. Great Britain urged a counter-claim, alleging 
that as her Northwest Trading Company had already estab- 
lished its posts on the headwaters of the Columbia, she had a 
priority of discovery and occupation as opposed to the United 
States. 

A company for carrying on fur trade in the northwestern re- 
gion of the continent, which was organized in New York in 1810, 
deserves special attention. Its founder was John Jacob Astor, 
a German of large wealth dwelling in New York, whose business 
ability and reputation are well known. His plan was to 
establish trading' posts on the Columbia and its tributaries, 
and a principal factory at the mouth of the Columbia to which 
all the furs collected at the other places were to be brought. 
The factory was to receive goods by ships sent out yearly from 
New York. Having left their cargoes at the mouth of the 
Columbia, the ships were to transport furs to Canton, whence 
they would take back to New York tea and other Chinese 
products. 

In September, 1810, Mr. Astor despatched a number of men 
skilled in the fur trade in the ship Tonquin, which arrived at 



16 INTRODUCTION 

the mouth of the Columbia in March, 1811. A second division 
set out from St. Louis across the continent under the direction 
of Mr. Wilham P. Hunt, ascended the Missouri to the great 
bend of the river, and thence journeyed by land to the Rocky 
Mountains. After crossing this ridge, they floated down one 
of the branches of the Lewis River to the Columbia and reached 
Astoria, the site of the principal factory, having experienced 
countless hardships from cold, weariness, and want of food. 
This Astoria enterprise was brought to a termination by the 
war between the United States and Great Britain which broke 
out in 1812. 

For some years after the dissolution of the Pacific Fur Com- 
pany no citizens of the United States were in the regions west 
of the Rocky Mountains; but this state of affairs was only 
temporary. In 1823 Mr. W. H. Ashley, of St. Louis, who had 
earlier set up a trading station on the Yellowstone River, 
crossed the Rockies between the sources of the Platte and the 
Colorado and obtained a large supply of furs. About a hun- 
dred men in the next year (1824) were left by him in that 
country to hunt and trap. In 1827 Mr. Ashley sent sixty 
men, with a piece of cannon drawn by mules, to the Great Salt 
Lake, and after that time the trail was opened for transporta- 
tion by wagons to the foot of the mountains. 

In 1826 Messrs. Smith, Jackson, and Sublette, who later 
bought Mr. Ashley's establishments and interests, carried on 
a regular trade with the countries of the Columbia and the 
Colorado, under the name of the Rocky Mountain Fur Com- 
pany. In 1832 Captain Bonneville led a band of more than a 
hundred men, with twenty wagons and many mules and horses, 
carrying goods from Missouri to the Far AVest. About the 
same time, Mr. Nathaniel Wyeth, of Massachusetts, led two 
expeditions overland to the Columbia, with the purpose of 
establishing a direct trade between the ports of the United 
States and those of the northwest coast, from which salmon 
and furs were to be exported. 

The first emigrations from the United States to the Oregon 



THE OREGON COUNTRY 17 

Country for the purpose of settlement appear to have been 
made in 1832. During the next ten years a steady stream 
of emigration moved from the states along the Atlantic sea- 
board toward the West, though the number that dared go 
beyond the Missouri River were few. Ignorance of the way, 
fear of the Indians, and insufficient supplies and equipments 
deterred many from proceeding far along the Oregon Trail, 
as the route up the valley of the Platte and the South Pass of 
the Rocky Mountains came to be called. Added to these 
difficulties was the feeling of uncertainty as to possession of 
homesteads, since by the treaty of 1818 all lands west of the 
Rocky Mountains were to be free to citizens of both the United 
States and Great Britain for an indefinite period. 

The needed impetus to the colonization of this far-off region 
came after the expedition of General John C. Fremont in 1842, 
when he surveyed under government authority a practical 
route to the Pacific Coast. In the following year the United 
States Senate passed a law providing for the occupation and 
settlement of the territory of Oregon, with the assurance of 
protection under the civil and military law. In June, 1843, 
a thousand persons, consisting of entire families, began their 
invasion of Oregon, carrying with them all things requisite 
for the establishment of farms. They followed the route 
surveyed in the previous year by Fremont, and arrived at the 
Willamet Valley four months after setting out from Westport, 
near the Missouri River. Their journey of more than two 
thousand miles was, on the whole, less difficult than had been 
imagined; and, according to Greenhow, the historian of the 
northwest coast of North America, "the success of the expe- 
dition encouraged a still greater number to follow in 1844, 
before the end of which year the number of American citizens 
in Oregon exceeded three thousand." 

It was along this trail, already made known in literature 
through Washington Irving 's Astoria and Adventures of 
Captain Bonneville, that Francis Parkman, impelled by an 
overmastering desire to study the Indian character at first 



18 INTRODUCTION 

hand, set out from St. Louis in the spring of 1846 to traverse 
"infamous wilds" and "deserts idle." But let him in his 
own free and picturesque style, with the supreme artist's 
creative skill in working elements into a structure quite his 
own and unique in literature, relate the experiences of five 
months in "those tracts that front the falling sun" and inhab- 
ited by " old and haughty nations, proud in arms." 



He told the red man's story; far and wide 
He searched the unwritten annals of his race; 

He sat a listener at the Sachem's side, 

He tracked the hunter through his wildwood chase. 

High o'er his head the soaring eagle screamed; 

The wolf's long howl rang nightly; through the vale 
Tramped the lone bear; the panther's eyeballs gleamed; 

The bison's gallop thundered on the gale. 

Oliver Wendell Holmea. 



THE OREGON TRAIL 

CHAPTER I 
The Frontier 

Last spring, 1846/ was a busy season in the city 
of St. Louis. Not only were emigrants from every 
part of the country preparing for the journey to 
Oregon and California/ but an unusual number of 
traders were making ready their wagons and outfits 
for Santa Fe. Many of the emigrants, especiall}^ 
of those bound for California, were persons of wealth 
and standing. The hotels were crowded, and the 
gunsmiths and saddlers w^ere kept constantly at 
work in providing arms and equipments for the 
different parties of travelers. Almost every day 
steamboats were leaving the levee and passing up 
the Missouri, crowded with passengers on their way 
to the frontier. 

In one of these, the Radnor, since snagged and 
lost, my friend and relative, Quincy A. Shaw, and 
myself, left St. Louis on the twenty-eighth of April, 
on a tour of curiosity and amusement to the Rocky 

21 



22 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Mountains. The boat was loaded until the water 
broke alternately over her guards. Her upper 
deck was covered with large wagons^ of a peculiar 
form, for the Santa Fe trade, and her hold was 
crammed with goods for the same destination. There 
were also the equipments and provisions of a party 
of Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, 
piles of saddles and harness, and a multitude of 
nondescript articles, indispensable on the prairies. 
Almost hidden in this medley one might have seen 
a small French cart, of the sort very appropriately 
called a "mule-killer" beyond the frontiers, and 
not far distant a tent, together with a miscellaneous 
assortment of boxes and barrels. The whole equipage 
was far from prepossessing in its appearance; yet, 
such as it was, it was destined to a long and arduous 
journey, on which the persevering reader will accom- 
pany it. 

The passengers on board the Radnor corresponded 
with her freight. In her cabin were Santa Fe traders, 
gamblers, speculators, and adventurers of various 
descriptions, and her steerage was crowded with 
Oregon emigrants, "mountain men,"^ negroes, and 
a party of Kansas Indians,^ who had been on a visit 
to St. Louis. 

Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven 
or eight days against the rapid current of the Missouri, 
grating upon snags, and hanging for two or three 
hours at a time upon sand-bars. We entered the 
mouth of the Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the 



THE FRONTIER 23 

weather soon became clear, and showed distinctly 
the broad and turbid river, with its eddies, its sand- 
bars, its ragged islands and forest-covered shores. 
The Missouri is constantly changing its course, wear- 
ing away its banks on one side, while it forms new 
ones on the other. Its channel is shifting continually; 
islands are formed, and then washed away; and 
while the old forests on one side are undermined 
and swept off, a young growth springs up from the 
new soil upon the other side. With all these changes, 
the water is so charged with mud and sand that it is 
perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a 
sediment an inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler. 
The river was now high; but when we descended in 
the autumn it was fallen very low, and all the secrets 
of its treacherous shallows were exposed to view. 
It was frightful to see the dead and broken trees, 
thick-set as a military abatis,^ firmly imbedded in 
the sand, and all pointing downstream, ready to 
impale any unhappy steamboat that at high water 
should pass over that dangerous ground. 

In five or six days we began to see signs of the 
great western movement^ that was then taking place. 
Parties of emigrants, with their tents and wagons, 
would be encamped on open spots near the bank, 
on their way to the common rendezvous at Indepen- 
dence.^ On a rainy day, near sunset, we reached 
the landing of this place, which is situated some 
miles from the river, on the extreme frontier of 
Missouri. The scene was characteristic, for here 



24 THE OREGON TRAIL 

were represented at one view the most remarkable 
features of this wild and enterprising region. On 
the muddy shore stood some thirty or forty dark 
slavish-looking Spaniards/ gazing stupidly out from 
beneath their broad hats. They were attached to 
one of the Santa Fe companies, whose wagons were 
crowded together on the banks above. In the midst 
of these, crouching over a smoldering fire, was a 
group of Indians, belonging to a remote Mexican 
tribe. One or two French hunters from the moun- 
tains, with their long hair and buckskin dresses, 
were looking at the boat; and seated on a log close 
at hand were three men, with rifles lying across 
their knees. The foremost of these, a tall, strong 
figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelligent 
face, might very well represent that race of restless 
and intrepid pioneers whose axes and rifles have 
opened a path from the Alleghanies to the western 
prairies. He was on his way to Oregon, probably 
a more congeniaP field to him than any that now 
remained on this side the great plains. 

Early on the next morning we reached Kansas, 
about five hundred miles from the mouth of the 
Missouri. Here we landed, and leaving our equip- 
ments in charge of my good friend Colonel Chick, 
whose log-house was the substitute for a tavern, 
we set out in a wagon for Westport,^ where we hoped 
to procure mules and horses for the journey. 

It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May 
morning. The rich and luxuriant woods, through 



THE FRONTIER 25 

which the miserable road conducted us, were lighted 
by the bright sunshine and enlivened by a multitude 
of birds. We overtook on the way our late fellow- 
travelers, the Kansas Indians, who, adorned with 
all their finery, were proceeding homeward at a 
round ^ pace; and whatever they might have seemed 
on board the boat, they made a very striking and 
picturesque feature in the forest landscape. 

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy 
ponies wxre tied by dozens along the houses and 
fences. Sacs and Foxes, ^ with shaved heads and 
painted faces, Shawanoes and Delawares, fluttering 
in calico frocks and turbans, Wyandots dressed 
like white men, and a few wretched Kansas wrapped 
in old blankets, were strolling about the streets, 
or lounging in and out of the shops and houses. 

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remark- 
able-looking person coming up the street. He had a 
ruddy face, garnished^ with the stumps of a bristly red 
beard and moustache; on one side of his head was a 
round cap* with a knob at the top, such as Scottish 
laborers sometimes wear; his coat was of a nondescript 
form, and made of a gray Scotch plaid, with the 
fringes hanging all about it; he wore pantaloons of 
coarse homespun, and hob-nailed shoes; and to com- 
plete his equipment, a little black pipe was stuck in 
one corner of his mouth. In this curious attire, I 
recognized Captain C. of the British army, who, with 
his brother and Mr. R., an English gentleman, was 
bound on a hunting expedition across the continent. 



26 THE OREGON TRAIL 

I had seen the Captain and his companions at St. 
Louis. They had now been for some time at Westport, 
making preparations for their departure, and waiting 
for a reinforcement/ since they were too few in number 
to attempt it alone. They might, it is true, have 
joined some of the parties of emigrants who were on 
the point of setting out for Oregon and California; but 
they professed great disinclination to have any con- 
nection with the " Kentucky fellows. "^ 

The Captain now urged it upon us that we should 
join forces and proceed to the mountains in 
company. Feeling no greater partiality for the society 
of the emigrants than they did, we thought the 
arrangement an advantageous one, and consented to 
it. Our future fellow-travelers had installed them- 
selves in a little log-house, where we found them 
surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, pistols, tele- 
scopes, knives, and, in short, their complete appoint- 
ments for the prairie. R., who professed a taste for 
natural history, sat at a table stuffing a woodpecker; 
the brother of the Captain, who was an Irishman, was 
splicing a trail-rope' on the floor, as he had^ been an 
amateur' sailor. The Captain pointed out, with much 
complacency,* the different articles of their outfit. 
"You see," said he, ''that we are all old travelers.^ I 
am convinced that no party ever went upon the prairie 
better provided." The hunter whom they had 
employed, a surly-looking Canadian, named Lorel, 
and their muleteer, an American from St. Louis, were 
lounging about the building. In a little log stable 



THE FRONTIER ' 27 

close at hand were their horses and mules, selected by 
the Captain, who was an excellent judge. 

The alliance entered into, we left them to complete 
their arrangements, while we pushed our own to all 
convenient speed. The emigrants, for whom our 
friends professed such contempt, were encamped on 
the prairie about eight or ten miles distant, to the 
number of a thousand or more, and new parties were 
constantly passing out from Independence to join 
them. They were in great confusion, holding meetings, 
passing resolutions, and drawing up regulations, but 
unable to unite in the choice of leaders to conduct 
them across the prairie. Being at leisure one day, I 
rode over to Independence. The town was crowded. 
A multitude of shops had sprung up to furnish the 
emigrants and Santa Fe traders with necessaries for 
their journey; and there was an incessant hammering 
and banging from a dozen blacksmiths' sheds, where 
the heavy w^agons were being repaired, and the horses 
and oxen shod. The streets were thronged with men, 
horses, and mules. While I was in the town, a train 
of emigrant wagons from Illinois passed through, to 
join the camp on the prairie, and stopped in the princi- 
pal street. A multitude of healthy children's faces 
were peeping out from under the covers of the wagons. 
Here and there a buxom damsel was seated on horse- 
back, holding over her sun-burnt face an old umbrella 
or a parasol, once gaudy enough, but now miserably 
faded. The men, very sober-looking countrymen, 
stood about their oxen; and as I passed I noticed three 



28 THE OREGON TRAIL 

old fellows, who, with then- long whips in their hands, 
were zealously discussing the doctrine of regeneration. ^ 
The emigrants, however, are not all of this stamp. 
Among them are some of the vilest outcasts in the 
country. I have often perplexed myself to divine 
the various motives that give impulse to this strange 
migration; but whatever they may be, whether an 
insane hope of a better condition in life, or a desire of 
shaking off restraints of law and society, or mere 
restlessness, certain it is that multitudes bitterly 
repent the journey, and after they have reached the 
land of promise^ are happy enough to escape from it. 
In the course of seven or eight days we had brought 
our preparations nearly to a close. Meanwhile our 
friends had completed theirs, and, becoming tired of 
Westport, they told us that they would set out in 
advance and wait at the crossing of the Kansas till we 
should come up. Accordingly R. and the muleteer 
went forward with the wagon and tent, while the 
Captain and his brother, together with Lorel and a 
trapper named Boisverd, who had joined them, fol- 
lowed with the band of horses. The commencement 
of the journey was ominous, for the Captain was 
scarcely a mile from Westport, riding along in state at 
the head of his party, leading his intended buffalo 
horse^ by a rope, when a tremendous thunderstorm 
came on, and drenched them all to the skin. They 
hurried on to reach the place, about seven miles off, 
where R. was to have had the camp in readiness to 
receive them; but this prudent person, when he saw 



THE FRONTIER 29 

the storm approaching, had selected a sheltered glade 
in the woods, where he pitched his tent, and was sipping 
a comfortable cup of coffee while the Captain galloped 
for miles beyond through the rain to look for him. 
At length the storm cleared away, and the sharp-eyed 
trapper succeeded in discovering his tent; R. had by 
this time finished his coffee, and was seated on a 
buffalo robe smoking his pipe. The Captain was one 
of the most easy-tempered men in existence, so he bore 
his ill-luck with great composure, shared the dregs of 
the coffee with his brother, and lay down to sleep in 
his wet clothes. 

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We 
were leading a pair of mules to Kansas when the storm 
broke. Such sharp and incessant flashes of lightning, 
such stunning and continuous thunder, I never before 
heard. The woods were completely obscured by the 
diagonal sheets of rain that fell with a heavy roar, and 
rose in spray from the ground; and the streams rose 
so rapidly that we could hardly ford them. At length, 
looming through the rain, we saw the log-house of 
Colonel Chick, who received us with his usual bland 
hospitality; while his wife, who, though a little soured 
and stiffened by too frequent attendance on camp- 
meetings,^ was not behind him in hospitable feeling, 
supplied us with the means of repairing our drenched 
and bedraggled condition. The storm, clearing away 
at about sunset, opened a noble prospect from the 
porch of the colonel's house, which stands upon a high 
hill. The sun streamed from the breaking clouds 



30 THE OREGON TRAIL 

upon the swift and angry Missouri, and on the immense 
expanse of luxuriant forest that stretched from its 
banks back to the distant bluffs. 

Returning on the next day to Westport, we re- 
ceived a message from the Captain, who had ridden 
back to deliver it in person, but finding that we 
were in Kansas, had intrusted it with an acquaint- 
ance of his named Vogel, who kept a small grocery 
and liquor shop. Whisky, by the w^ay, circulates 
more freely in Westport than is altogether safe in 
a place where every man carries a loaded pistol in 
his pocket. As we passed this establishment, we 
saw Vogel's broad German face and knavish-looking 
eyes thrust from his door. He said he had something 
to tell us, and invited us to take a dram.^ Neither 
his liquor nor his message was very palatable. The 
Captain had returned to give us notice that R., who 
assumed the direction of his party, had determined 
upon another route from that agreed upon between 
us; and instead of taking the course of the traders,^ 
to pass northward by Fort Leavenworth, and follow 
the path marked out by the dragoons^ in their 
expedition of last summer. To adopt such a plan 
without consulting us, we looked upon as a very 
high-handed proceeding; but suppressing our dis- 
satisfaction as well as we could, we made up our 
minds to join them at Fort Leavenworth, where 
they were to wait for us. 

Accordingly, our preparation being now complete, 
we attempted one fine morning to commence our 



THE FRONTIER 31 

journey. The first step was an unfortunate one. 
No sooner were our animals put in harness than the 
shaft mule reared and plunged, burst ropes and 
straps, and nearly flung the cart into the Missouri. 
Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we exchanged 
her for another, with which we were furnished by 
our friend Mr. Boone of Westport, a grandson of 
Daniel Boone, ^ the pioneer. This foretaste of prairie 
experience was very soon followed by another. 
Westport was scarcely out of sight when we en- 
countered a deep muddy gully, of a species that 
afterward became but too familiar to us; and here 
for the space of an hour or more the cart stuck fast. 



CHAPTER II 

Breaking the Ice 

'Tis merry in greenwood — thus runs the old lay — 
In the gladsome month of merry May, 
When the wild bird's song on stem and spray 

Invites to forest bower: 
Then rears the ash his airy crest, 
And the beech in glistening leaves is drest. 
And dark between shows the oak's proud breast 

Like a chieftain's frowning tower. 

Harold the Dauntless.^ 

Both Shaw and myself were tolerably inured to 
the vicissitudes of traveling. We had experienced 
them under various forms, and a birch canoe was as 
familiar to us as a steamboat. The restlessness, 
the love of wilds and hatred of cities, natural perhaps 
in early years to every unperverted son of Adam,^ 
was not our only motive for undertaking the present 
journey. My companion hoped to shake off the 
effects of a disorder that had impaired a constitution 
originally hardy and robust; and I was anxious to 
pursue some inquiries relative to the character and 
usages of the remote Indian nations, being already 
familiar with many of the border tribes. 

32 



BREAKING THE ICE 33 

Emerging from the mud-hole where we last took 
leave of the reader, we pursued our way for some 
time along the narrow track, in the checkered sun- 
shine and shadow of the woods, till at length, issuing 
forth into the broad light, we left behind us the 
farthest outskirts of the great forest that once spread 
unbroken from the western plains to the shore of 
the Atlantic. Looking over an intervening belt of 
shrubbery, we saw the green, ocean-like expanse of 
prairie, stretching swell over swell to the horizon. 

It was a mild, calm spring day; a day when one is 
more disposed to musing and reverie than to action, 
and the softest part of his nature is apt to gain the 
ascendency. I rode in advance of the party, as we 
passed through the shrubbery, and as a nook of green 
grass offered a strong temptation, I dismounted and 
lay down there. All the trees and saplings were in 
flower, or budding into fresh leaf; the red clusters 
of the maple-blossoms and the rich flowers of the 
Indian apple ^ were there in profusion; and I was 
half inclined to regret leaving behind the land of 
gardens for the rude and stern scenes of the prairie 
and the mountains. 

Meanwhile the party came in sight out of the 
bushes. Foremost rode Henry Chatillon,^ our guide 
and hunter, a fine athletic figure, mounted on 
a hardy gray Wyandot pony. He wore a white 
blanket-coat, a broad hat of felt, moccasins, and 
pantaloons of deerskin, ornamented along the seams 
with rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck in his 



34 THE OREGON TRAIL 

belt; his bullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at his 
side, and his rifle lay before him, resting against the 
high pommel of his saddle, which, like all his equip- 
ments, had seen hard service, and was much the 
worse for wear. Shaw followed close, mounted on 
a little sorrel horse, and leading a larger animal by 
a rope. His outfit, which resembled mine, had 
been provided with a view to use rather than orna- 
ment. It consisted of a plain, black Spanish saddle, 
with holsters^ of heavy pistols, a blanket rolled up 
behind, and the trail-rope attached to his horse's 
neck hanging coiled in front. He carried a double- 
barreled smooth-bore, while I boasted a rifle of some 
fifteen pounds' weight. At that time our attire, 
though far from elegant, bore some marks of civiliza- 
tion, and offered a very favorable contrast to the 
inimitable shabbiness of our appearance on the 
return journey. A red flannel shirt, belted around 
the waist like a frock, then constituted our upper 
garment; moccasins had supplanted our failing boots; 
and the remaining essential portion of our attire 
consisted of an extraordinary article, manufactured 
by a squaw out of smoked buckskin. Our muleteer, 
Delorier, brought up the rear with his cart, wading 
ankle-deep in the mud, alternately puffing at his 
pipe, and ejaculating in his prairie patois:^ '^ Sacre 
enfant de garce!"^ as one of the mules would seem to 
recoil before some abyss of unusual profundity. 
The cart was of the kind that one may see by scores 
around the market-place in Montreal, and had a 



BREAKING THE ICE 35 

white covering to protect the articles within. These 
were our provisions and a tent, with ammunition, 
blankets, and presents for the Indians.^ 

We were in all four men with eight animals; for 
besides the spare horses led by Shaw and myself, 
an additional mule was driven along with us as 
a reserve in case of accident. 

After this summing up of our forces, it may not be 
amiss to glance at the characters of the two men who 
accompanied us. 

Delorier was a Canadian, with all the characteris- 
tics of the true Jean Baptiste.^ Neither fatigue, ex- 
posure, nor hard labor could ever impair his cheer- 
fulness and gayety, nor his obsequious politeness to 
his bourgeois;^ and when night came he would sit 
down by the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell stories 
with the utmost contentment. In fact, the prairie 
was his congenial element. Henry Chatillon was 
a different stamp. When we were at St. Louis, 
several gentlemen of the Fur Company^ had kindly 
offered to procure for us a hunter and guide suited 
for our purposes, and on coming one afternoon to the 
office, we found there a tall and exceedingly well- 
dressed man, with a face so open and frank that it 
attracted our notice at once. We were surprised 
at being told that it was he who wished to guide us 
to the mountains. He was born in a little French 
town near St. Louis, and from the age of fifteen 
years had been constantly in the neighborhood of 
the Rocky Mountains, employed for the most part 



36 THE OREGON TRAIL 

by the company to supply their forts with buffalo 
meat. As a hunter he had but one rival in the whole 
region, a man named Simoneau, with whom, to the 
honor of both of them, he was on terms of the closest 
friendship. He had arrived at St. Louis the day 
before, from the mountains, where he had remained 
for four years; and he now only asked to go and 
spend a day with his mother before setting out on 
another expedition. His age was about thirty; 
he was six feet high, and very powerfully and grace- 
fully molded. The prairies had been his school; he 
could neither read nor write, but he had a natural 
refinement and delicacy of mind such as is very 
rarely found, even in women. His manly face was 
a perfect mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kind- 
ness of heart; he had, moreover, a keen perception 
of character, and a tact that would preserve him from 
flagrant error in any society. Henry had not the 
restless energy of an Anglo-American.^ He was 
content to take things as he found them; and his 
chief fault arose from an excess of easy generosity, 
impelling him to give away too profusely ever to 
thrive in the world. Yet it was commonly remarked 
of him, that whatever he might choose to do with 
what belonged to himself, the property of others 
was always safe in his hands. His bravery was as 
much celebrated in the mountains as his skill in 
hunting; but it is characteristic of him that in a 
country where the rifle is the chief arbiter- between 
man and man, Henry was very seldom involved in 



BREAKING THE ICE 37 

quarrels. Once or twice, indeed, his quiet good- 
nature had been mistaken and presumed upon, but the 
consequences of the error were so formidable that 
no one was ever known to repeat it. No better 
evidence of the intrepidity of his temper could be 
wished than the common report that he had killed 
more than thirty grizzly bears. He was a proof of 
what unaided nature will sometimes do. I have 
never, in the city or in the wilderness, met a better 
man than my noble and true-hearted friend, Henry 
Chatillon. 

We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and 
fairly upon the broad prairie. Now and then a 
Shawanoe passed us, riding his little shaggy pony 
at a ^^lope";^ his calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the 
gay handkerchief bound around his snaky hair 
fluttering in the wind. At noon we stopped to rest 
not far from a little creek replete with frogs and 
young turtles. There had been an Indian encamp- 
ment at the place, and the framework of their lodges 
still remained, enabling us very easily to gain a shelter 
from the sun by merely spreading one or tw^o blankets 
over them. Thus shaded, we sat upon our saddles, 
and Shaw for the first time lighted his favorite 
Indian pipe; while Delorier was squatted over a hot 
bed of coals, shading his eyes with one hand, and 
holding a little stick in the other, with which he 
regulated the hissing contents of the frying-pan. 
The horses were turned to feed among the scattered 
bushes of a low oozy meadow. A drowsy spring-like 



38 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sultriness pervaded the air, and the voices of ten 
thousand young frogs and insects, just awakened into 
life, rose in varied chorus from the creek and the 
meadows. 

Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. 
This was an old Kansas Indian; a man of distinction, 
if one might judge from his dress. His head was 
shaved and painted red, and from the tuft of hair 
remaining on the crown dangled several eagle's 
feathers, and the tails of two or three rattlesnakes. 
His cheeks, too, were daubed with vermilion; his 
ears were adorned with green glass pendants; a collar 
of grizzly bear's claws surrounded his neck, and 
several large necklaces of wampum hung on his 
breast. Having shaken us by the hand with a 
cordial grunt of salutation, the old man, dropping 
his red blanket from his shoulders, sat down cross- 
legged on the ground. In the absence of liquor we 
offered him a cup of sweetened water, at which he 
ejaculated "Good!" and was beginning to tell us 
how great a man he was, and how many Pawnees^ 
he had killed, when suddenly a motley concourse^ 
appeared wading across the creek toward us. They 
filed past in rapid succession, men, women, and 
children; some were on horseback, some on foot, but 
all were alike squaHd and wretched. Old squaws, 
mounted astride of shaggy, meager little ponies, with 
perhaps one or two snake-eyed children seated behind 
them, clinging to their tattered blankets; tall lank 
young men on foot, with bows and arrows in their 



BREAKING THE ICE 39 

hands; and girls whose native ugliness not all the 
charms of glass beads and scarlet cloth could disguise, 
made up the procession; although here and there 
was a man who, like our visitor, seemed to hold 
some rank in this respectable community. They 
were the dregs of the* Kansas nation, who, 
while their betters were gone to hunt the buffalo, 
had left the village^ on a begging expedition to 
Westport. 

When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught 
our horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our 
journey. Fording the creek, the low roofs of a num- 
ber of rude buildings appeared, rising from a cluster 
of groves and woods on the left; and riding up through 
a long lane, amid a profusion of wdld roses and early 
spring flowers, we found the log^-church and school- 
houses belonging to the Methodist Shawanoe mission." 
The Indians were on the point of gathering to a 
religious meeting. Some scores of them, tall men in 
half-civilized dress, were seated on wooden benches 
under the trees; while their horses were tied to the 
sheds and fences. Their chief, Parks, a remarkably 
large and athletic man, was just arrived from West- 
port, where he owns a trading establishment. Be- 
sides this, he has a fine farm and a considerable num- 
ber of slaves. Indeed the Shawanoes have made 
greater progress in agriculture than any other tribe 
on the Missouri frontier; and both in appearance 
and in character form a marked contrast to our late 
acquaintance, the Kansas. 



40 THE OREGON TRAIL 

A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the 
river Kansas. Traversing the woods that lined it, 
and plowing through the deep sand, we encamped 
not far from the bank, at the Lower Delaware cross- 
ing. Our tent was erected for the first time on a 
meadow close to the woods, and the camp prepara- 
tions being complete, we began to think of supper. 
An old Delaware woman, of some three hundred 
pounds' weight, sat in the porch of a little log-house 
close to the water, and a very pretty half-breed girl 
was engaged, under her superintendence, in feeding 
a large flock of turkeys that were fluttering and 
gobbling about the door. But no offers of money, 
or even of tobacco, could induce her to part with 
one of her favorites; so I took my rifle, to see if the 
woods or the river could furnish us anything. A 
multitude of quails were plaintively whistling in the 
woods and meadows; but nothing appropriate to 
the rifle was to be seen, except three buzzards, seated 
on the spectral limbs of an old dead sycamore, that 
thrust itself out over the river from the dense sunny 
wall of fresh foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn 
down between their shoulders, and they seemed to 
luxuriate in the soft sunshine that was pouring from 
the west. As they offered no epicurean temptations,^ 
I refrained from disturbing their enjoyment; but 
contented myself with admiring the calm beauty of 
the sunset, for the river, eddying swiftly in deep 
purple shadows between the impending woods, 
formed a wild but tranquillizing scene. 



BREAKING THE ICE 41 

When I returned to the camp I found Shaw and 
an old Indian seated on the ground in close conference, 
passing the pipe between them. ' The old man was 
explaining that he loved the whites, and had an 
especial partiality for tobacco. Delorier was arrang- 
ing upon the ground our service of tin cups and plates; 
and as other viands were not to be had, he set before 
us a repast of biscuit and bacon, and a large pot of 
coffee. Unsheathing our knives, we attacked it, 
disposed of the greater part, and tossed the residue 
to the Indian. Meanwhile our horses, now hobbled^ 
for the first time, stood among the trees, with their 
fore-legs tied together, in great disgust and astonish- 
ment. They seemed by no means to relish this 
foretaste -of what was before them. Mine, in partic- 
ular, had conceived a mortal aversion to the prairie 
life. One of them, christened Henclrick, an animal 
whose strength and hardihood were his only merits, 
and who yielded to nothing but the cogent arguments 
of the whip, looked toward us with an indignant 
countenance, as if he meditated avenging his wrongs 
with a kick. The other, Pontiac,^ a good horse, 
though of plebeian lineage,^ stood with his head 
drooping and his mane hanging about his eyes, with 
the grieved and sulky air of a lubberly boy sent off 
to school. Poor Pontiac! his forebodings were but 
too just; for when I last heard from him, he was 
under the lash of an Ogallallah brave,"* on a war 
party against the Crows. 

As it grew dark, and the voices of the whip-poor- 



42 THE OREGON TRAIL 

wills succeeded the whistle of the quails, we removed 
our^ saddles to the tent, to serve as pillows, spread 
our blankets upon the ground, and prepared to 
bivouac^ for the first time that season. Each man 
selected the place in the tent which he was to occupy 
for the journey. To Delorier, however, was assigned 
the cart, into which he could creep in wet weather, 
and find a much better shelter than his bourgeois 
enjoyed in the tent. 

The river Kansas at this point forms the bound- 
ary line between the country of the Shawa- 
noes and that of the Delawares. We crossed 
it on the following day, rafting over our horses and 
equipage with much difficulty, and unlading our 
cart in order to make our way up the steep ascent 
on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning; 
warm, tranquil, and bright; and a perfect stillness 
reigned over the rough inclosures and neglected 
fields of the Delawares, except the ceaseless hum 
and chirruping of myriads of insects. Now and 
then an Indian rode past on his way to the meeting- 
house, or through the dilapidated entrance of some 
shattered log-house an old woman might be dis- 
cerned, enjoying all the luxury of idleness. There 
was no village bell, for the Delawares have none; 
and yet upon that forlorn and rude settlement was 
the same spirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity 
as in some little New England village among the 
mountains of New Hampshire or the Vermont woods. 

Having at jDresent no leisure for such reflections, 



BREAKING THE ICE 43 

we pursued our journey. A military road led from 
this point to Fort Leavenworth, and for many miles 
the farms and cabins of the Delawares were scattered 
at short intervals on either hand. The little rude 
structures of logs, erected usually on the borders of 
a tract of woods, made a picturesque feature in the 
landscape. But the scenery needed no foreign aid. 
Nature had done enough for it; and the alternation 
of rich green prairies and groves that stood in clusters, 
or lined the banks of the numerous little streams, 
had all the softened and polished beauty of a region 
that has been for centuries under the hand of man. 
At that early season, too, it was in the height of its 
freshness and luxuriance. The woods were flushed 
with the red buds of the maple; there were frequent 
flowering shrubs unknown in the East; and the green 
swells of the prairie were thickly studded with 
blossoms. 

Encamping near a spring by the side of a hill, we 
resumed our journey in the morning, and early in 
the afternoon had arrived within a few miles of Fort 
Leavenworth. The road crossed a stream densely 
bordered with trees, and running in the bottom of a 
deep woody hollow. We were about to descend into 
it, when a wild and confused procession appeared, 
passing through the water below, and coming up the 
steep ascent toward us. We stopped to let them 
pass. They were Delawares, just returned from a 
hunting expedition. All, both men and women, 
were mounted on horseback, and drove along with 



44 THE OREGON TRAIL 

them a considerable number of pack mules, laden 
with the furs they had taken, together with the 
buffalo robes, kettles, ahd other articles of their 
traveling equipment, which, as well as their clothing 
and their weapons, had a worn and dingy aspect, 
as if they had seen hard service of late. At the rear 
of the party was an old man, who, as he came up, 
stopped his horse to speak to us. He rode a little 
tough shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knotted 
with burrs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to 
which, by way of reins, was attached a string of 
rawhide. His saddle, robbed probably from a 
Mexican, had no covering, being merely a tree^ 
of the Spanish form, with a piece of grizzly bear's 
skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stirrups 
attached, and in the absence of girth, a thong of 
hide passing around the horse's belly. The rider's 
dark features and keen snaky eye were unequivo- 
cally^ Indian. He wore a buckskin frock, which, 
like his fringed leggings, was well polished and black- 
ened by grease and long service; and an old handker- 
chief was tied around his head. Resting on the 
saddle before him lay his rifle; a weapon in the use 
of which the Delawares are skillful; though, from its 
weight, the distant prairie Indians are too lazy to 
carry it. 

"Who's your chief?" he immediately inquired. 

Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware 
fixed his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and 
then sententiously remarked: 



BREAKING THE ICE 45 

''No good! Too young!" With this flattering 
comment he left us, and rode after his people. 

This tribe, the Delawares,^ once the peaceful allies 
of William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering 
Iroquois, are now the most adventurous and dreaded 
warriors upon the prairies. They make war upon 
remote tribes, the very names of which were unknown 
to their fathers in their ancient seats in Pennsylvania; 
and they push these new quarrels with true Indian 
rancor, sending out their little war parties as far as 
the Rocky Mountains, and into the Mexican terri- 
tories. Their neighbors and former confederates, 
the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are in a 
prosperous condition; but the Delawares dwindle 
every year, from the number of men lost in their 
war-like expeditions. 

Soon after leaving this party, we saw, stretching on 
the right, the forests that follow the course of the 
Missouri, and the deep woody channel through which 
at this point it runs. At a distance in front were the 
white barracks of Fort Leavenworth, just visible 
through the trees upon an eminence above a bend 
of the river. A wide green meadow, as level as a 
lake, lay between us and the Missouri, and upon this, 
close to a line of trees that bordered a little brook, 
stood the tent of the captain and his companions, with 
their horses feeding around it; but they themselves 
were invisible. Wright, their muleteer, was there, 
seated on the tongue of the wagon, repairing his har- 
ness. Boisverd stood cleanino; his rifle at the door 



46 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of the tent, and Lorel lounged idly about. On closer 
examination, however, we discovered the captain's 
brother Jack sitting in the tent, at his old occupation 
of splicing trail-ropes.^ He welcomed us in his 
broad Irish brogue, and said that his brother was 
fishing in the river, and R. gone to the garrison. ^ 
They returned before sunset. Meanwhile we erected 
our own tent not far off, and after supper a council 
was held, in which it was resolved to remain one day 
at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next to bid a final 
adieu to the frontier: or in the phraseology of the 
region, to '^jump off!"^ Our deliberations were 
conducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell 
of the prairie, where the long dry grass of last summer 
was on fire. 



CHAPTER III 

Fort Leavenworth 

Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, 
And marvel men should quit their easy-chair, 
The toilsome way and long, long league to trace, 
Oh! there is sweetness in the prairie air 
And life, that bloated ease can never hope to share. 

Childe Harold. ^ 

On the next morning we rode to Fort Leaven- 
worth. Colonel, now General Kearney,^ to whom 
I had had the honor of an introduction when at St. 
Louis, was just arrived, and received us at his quarters 
with the high-bred courtesy habitual to him. Fort 
Leavenworth is in fact no fort, being without defen- 
sive works, except two block-houses.^ No rumors 
of war'' had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. In the 
square grassy area, surrounded by barracks and the 
quarters of the officers, the men were passing and 
repassing, or lounging among the trees; although 
not many weeks afterward it presented a different 
scene; for here the very offscourings of the frontier 
were congregated, to be marshaled for the expedition 
against Santa Fe. 

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the 
47 



48 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Kickapoo^ village, five or six miles beyond. The 
path, a rather dubious and uncertain one, led us along 
the ridge of high bluffs that bordered the Missouri; 
and by looking to the right or to the left, we could 
enjoy a strange contrast of opposite scenery. On 
the left stretched the prairie, rising into swells and 
undulations, thickly sprinkled with groves, or grace- 
fully expanding into wide grassy basins of miles in 
extent; while its curvatures, swelling against the 
horizon, were often surmounted by lines of sunny 
woods; a scene to which the freshness of the season 
and the peculiar mellow^ness of the atmosphere 
gave additional softness. Below us, on the right, 
Avas a tract of ragged and broken woods. We could 
look down on the summits of the trees, some living 
and some dead; some erect, others leaning at every 
angle, and others still piled in masses together by 
the passage of a hurricane. Beyond their extreme 
verge, the turbid waters of the Missouri were dis- 
cernible through the boughs, rolling powerfully along 
at the foot of the woody declivities on its farther 
bank. 

The path soon after led inland; and as we crossed an 
open meadow we saw a cluster of buildings on a 
rising ground before us, with a crowd of people sur- 
rounding them. They were the storehouse, cottage, 
and stables of the Kickapoo trader's establishment. 
Just at that moment, as it chanced, he was beset 
with half the Indians of the settlement. They had 
tied their wTetched, neglected little ponies by dozens 



FORT LEAVENWORTH 49 

along the fences and outhouses, and were either 
lounging about the place, or crowding into the 
trading-house. Here were faces of various colors; 
red, green, white, and black, curiously intermingled 
and disposed over the visage in a variety of patterns. 
Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, brass ear-rings, 
wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. The 
trader was a blue-eyed, open-faced man, who neither 
in his manners nor in his appearance betrayed any 
of the roughness of the frontier; though just at pres- 
ent he was obliged to keep a lynx eye on his suspicious 
customers, who, men and women, were climbing on 
his counter, and seating themselves among his boxes 
and bales. 

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently 
illustrated the condition of its unfortunate and self- 
abandoned occupants. Fancy to yourself a little 
swift stream, working its devious way down a woody 
valley; sometimes wholly hidden under logs and fallen 
trees, sometimes issuing forth and spreading into a 
broad, clear pool; and on its banks in little nooks 
cleared away among the trees, miniature log-houses 
in utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of narrow^ 
obstructed paths connected these habitations one 
with another. Sometimes we met a stray calf, a pig, 
or a pony, belonging to some of the villagers, who 
usually lay in the sun in front of their dwellings, and 
looked on us with cold, suspicious eyes as we ap- 
proached. Farther on, in place of the log-huts of 
the Kickapoos, we found the pukwi lodges of their 



50 THE OREGON TRAIL 

neighbors, the Pottawattamies/ whose condition 
seemed no better than theirs. 

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excess- 
ive heat and sultriness of the day, we returned to 
our friend, the trader. By this time the crowd 
around him had dispersed, and left him at leisure. 
He invited us to his cottage, a little white-and-green 
building, in the style of the old French settlements; 
and ushered us into a neat, well-furnished room. The 
blinds were closed, and the heat and glare of the sun 
excluded; the room was as cool as a cavern. It was 
neatly carpeted too, and furnished in a manner that 
we hardly expected on the frontier. The sofas, chairs, 
tables, and a well-filled bookcase would not have 
disgraced an Eastern city; though there were one or 
two little tokens that indicated the rather question- 
able civilization of the region. A pistol, loaded and 
capped, lay on the mantlepiece; and through the glass 
of the bookcase, peeping above the works of John 
Milton, 2 glittered the handle of a very mischievous- 
looking knife. 

Our host went out, and returned with iced water, 
glasses, and a bottle of excellent claret; a refresh- 
ment most welcome in the extreme heat of the day; 
and soon after appeared a merry, laughing woman, 
who must have been, a year or two before, a very 
rich and luxuriant specimen of Creole^ beauty. She 
came to say that lunch was ready in the next room. 
Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny side of life, 
and troubled herself with none of its cares. She sat 



FORT LEAVENWORTH 51 

down and entertained us while we were at table with 
anecdotes of fishing parties, frolics, and the officers 
at the fort. Taking leave at length of the hospitable 
trader and his friend, we rode back to the garrison. 

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to 
call upon Colonel Kearney. I found him still at 
table. There sat our friend the Captain, in the same 
remarkable habiliments in which we saw him at 
Westport; the black pipe, however, being for the 
present laid aside. He dangled his little cap in his 
hand and talked of steeple-chases, touching occasion- 
ally upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo-hunting. 
There, too, was R., somewhat more elegantly attired. 
For the last time we tasted the luxuries of civilization, 
and drank adieus to it in wine good enough to make 
us almost regret the leave-taking. Then, mounting, 
we rode together to the camp, where everything was 
in readiness for departure on the morrow. 



CHAPTER IV 

''Jumping Off" 

We forded the river and clomb the high hill, 
Never our steeds for a day stood still; 
Whether we lay in the cave or the shed 
Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed; 
Whether we couched in our rough capote* 
Or the rougher plank of our gliding boat, 
Or stretched on the sand, or our paddles spread 
As a pillow beneath the resting head, 
Fresh we woke upon the morrow; 
All our thoughts and words had scope, 
We had health and we had hope, 
Toil and travel, but no sorrow. 

Siege of Corinth. 

The reader need not be told that John BulP never 
leaves home without encumbering himself with the 
greatest possible load of luggage. Our companions 
were no exception to the rule. They had a wagon 
drawn by six mules and crammed with provisions 
for six months, besides ammunition enough for a 
regiment; spare rifles and fowling-pieces, ropes and 
harness; personal baggage, and a miscellaneous assort- 
ment of articles, which produced infinite embarrass- 
ment on the journey. They had also decorated 
their persons with telescopes and portable compasses, 

52 



''JUMPING OFF" 53 

and carried English double-barreled rifles of sixteen- 
to-the-pound calibre/ slung to their saddles in dra- 
goon fashion. 

By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had 
breakfasted; the tents were leveled, the animals sad- 
dled and harnessed, and all was prepared. '^ Avance 
doncP get up!" cried Delorier from his seat in front 
of the cart. Wright, our friends' muleteer, after 
some swearing and lashing, got his insubordinate 
train in motion, and then the whole party filed from 
the ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and 
board, and the principles of Blackstone's Commen- 
taries.^ The day was a most auspicious one; and yet 
Shaw and I felt certain misgivings, which in the sequel 
proved but too well founded. We had just learned 
that though R. had taken it upon him to adopt this 
course without consulting us, not a single man in the 
party was acquainted with it; and the absurdity of 
our friend's high-handed measure very soon became 
manifest. His plan was to strike the trail of several 
companies of dragoons, who last summer had made 
an expedition under Colonel Kearney to Fort Lara- 
mie, and by this means to reach the grand trail of the 
Oregon emigrants up the Platte.* 

We rode for an hour or two when a familiar cluster 
of buildings appeared on a little hill. "Hallo!" 
shouted the Kickapoo trader from over his fence, 
"where are you going?" A few rather emphatic 
exclamations might have been heard among us, 
when we found that we had gone miles out of our 



54 THE OREGON TRAIL 

way, and were not advanced an inch toward the 
Rocky Mountains. So we turned in the direction 
the trader indicated; and with the sun for a guide, 
began to trace a "bee line" across the prairies. We 
struggled through copses and lines of wood; we waded 
brooks and pools of water; we traversed prairies as 
green as an emerald, expanding before us for mile 
after mile; wider and more wild than the wastes 
Mazeppa^ rode over: 

Man nor brute, 
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, 
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; 
No sign of travel; none of toil; 
The very air was mute. 

Riding in advance, we passed over one of these 
great plains; we looked back and saw the line of 
scattered horsemen stretching for a mile or more; 
and far in the rear against the horizon, the white 
wagons creeping slowly along. "Here we are at 
last!" shouted the Captain. And in truth we had 
struck upon the traces of a large body of horse. We 
turned joyfully and followed this new course, with 
tempers somewhat improved; and toward sunset 
encamped on a high swell of the prairie, at the foot 
of which a lazy stream soaked along through clumps 
of rank grass. It was getting dark. We turned the 
horses loose to feed. '^ Drive down the tent-pickets 
hard," said Henry Chatillon, "it is going to blow." 
We did so, and secured the tent as well as we could; 
for the sky had changed totally, and a fresh damp 



"JUMPING OFF'' 55 

smell in the wind warned us that a stormy night was 
likely to succeed the hot clear day. The prairie also 
wore a new aspect, and its vast swells had grown 
black and somber under the shadow of the clouds. 
The thunder soon began to growl at a distance. 
Picketing and hobbling the horses among the rich 
grass at the foot of the slope, where we encamped, 
we gained a shelter just as the rain began to fall; and 
sat at the opening of the tent, watching the proceed- 
ings of the Captain. In defiance of the rain he was 
stalking among the horses, wrapped in an old Scotch 
plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him, lest 
some of his favorites should escape, or some accident 
should befall them; and he cast an anxious eye toward 
three wolves w^ho were sneaking along over the dreary 
surface of the plain, as if he dreaded some hostile 
demonstration on their part. 

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or 
two, when we came to an extensive belt of woods, 
through the midst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, 
and of an appearance particularly muddy and treach- 
erous. Delorier was in advance with his cart; he 
jerked his pipe from his mouth, lashed his mules, and 
poured forth a volley of Canadian ejaculations. In 
plunged the cart, but midway it stuck fast. Delorier 
leaped out knee-deep in water, and by dint of sacres^ 
and a vigorous application of the whip, he urged the 
mules out of the slough. Then approached the long 
team and heavy wagon of our friends; but it paused 
on the brink. 



56 THE OREGON TRAIL 

"Now my advice is " began the Captain, who 

had been anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 

''Drive on!" cried R. 

But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as 
yet decided the point in his own mind; and he sat 
still in his seat on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a 
low contemplative strain to himself. 

''My advice is," resumed the Captain, "that we 
unload; for I'll bet any man five pounds that if we 
try to go through, we shall stick fast." 

" By the powers, we shall stick fast!" echoed Jack, 
the Captain's brother, shaking his large head with 
an air of firm conviction. 

"Drive on! drive on!" cried R. petulantly. 

"Well," observed the Captain, turning to us as we 
sat looking on, much edified by this by-play among 
our confederates, "I can only give my advice, and 
if people won't be reasonable, why, they won't; 
that's all!" 

Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his 
mind; for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley 
of oaths and curses, that, compared with the French 
imprecations of Delorier, sounded like the roaring of 
heavy cannon after the popping and sputtering of a 
bunch of Chinese crackers.^ At the same time he 
discharged a shower of blows upon his mules, who 
hastily dived into the mud and drew the wagon lum- 
bering after them. For a moment the issue was 
dubious. Wright writhed about in his saddle, and 
swore and lashed like a madman; but who can count 



''JUMPING OFF" 57 

on a team of half-broken mules? At the most critical 
point, when all should have been harmony and com- 
bined effort, the perverse brutes fell into lamentable 
disorder, and huddled together in confusion on the 
farther bank. There was the wagon up to the hub 
in mud, and visibly settling every instant. There 
was nothing for it but to unload; then to dig away the 
mud from before the wheels with a spade, and lay a 
causeway of bushes and branches. This agreeable 
labor accomplished, the wagon at length emerged; 
but if I mention that some interruption of this sort 
occurred at least four or five times a day for a fort- 
night, the reader will understand that our progress 
toward the Platte was not without its obstacles. 

We traveled six or seven miles farther, and ''nooned'* 
near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, 
when the horses were all driven down to water, my 
homesick charger^ Pontiac made a sudden leap 
across, and set off at a round trot for the settlements. 
I mounted my remaining horse, and started in pur- 
suit. Making a circuit, I headed the runaway, 
hoping to drive him back to camp; but he instantly 
broke into a gallop, made a wide tour on the prairie, 
and got past me again. I tried this plan repeatedly, 
with the same result ; Pontiac was evidently disgusted 
with the prairie; so I abandoned it, and tried another, 
trotting along gently behind him, in hopes that I 
might quietly get near enough to seize the trail-rope 
which was fastened to his neck, and dragged about a 
dozen feet behind him. The chase grew interesting. 



58 THE OREGON TRAIL 

For mile after mile I followed the rascal, with the ut- 
most care not to alarm him, and gradually got nearer, 
until at length old Hendrick's nose was fairly 
brushed by the whisking tail of the unsuspecting 
Pontiac. Without drawing rein, I slid softly to the 
ground; but my long, heavy rifle encumbered me, and 
the low sound it made in striking the horn of the 
saddle startled him; he pricked up his ears, and 
sprang off at a run. ''My friend," thought I, re- 
mounting, ''do that again, and I will shoot you!" 

Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, 
and thither I determined to follow him. I made up 
my mind to spend a solitary and supperless night, and 
then set out again in the morning. One hope, how- 
ever, remained. The creek where the wagon had 
stuck was just before us; Pontiac might be thirsty 
with his run, and stop there to drink. I kept as near 
to him as possible, taking every precaution not to 
alarm him again; and the result proved as I had hoped; 
for he walked deliberately among the trees, and 
stooped down to the water. I alighted, dragged old 
Hendrick through the mud, and with a feeling of 
infinite satisfaction picked up the slimy trail-rope, and 
twisted it three times round my hand. " Now let me 
see you get away again!" I thought, as I remounted. 
But Pontiac was exceedingly reluctant to turn back; 
Hendrick, too, who had evidently flattered himself 
with vain hopes, showed the utmost repugnance and 
grumbled in a manner peculiar to himself at being 
compelled to face about. A smart cut of the whip 



''JUMPING OFF'' 69 

restored his cheerfulness; and dragging the recovered 
truant behind, I set out in search of the camp. An 
hour or two elapsed, when, near sunset, I saw the 
tents, standing on a rich swell of the prairie, beyond 
a line of woods, while the bands of horses were feeding 
in a low meadow close at hand. There sat Jack C, 
cross-legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope, and the 
rest were lying on the grass, smoking and telling stories. 
That night we enjoyed a serenade from the wolves, 
more lively than any with which they had yet favored 
us; and in the morning one of the musicians appeared, 
not many rods from the tents, quietly seated among 
the horses, looking at us with a pair of large gray eyes; 
but perceiving a rifle leveled at him, he leaped up and 
made off in hot haste. 

I pass by the following day or two of our journey, 
for nothing occurred worthy of record. Should any 
one of my readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, 
and should he choose the route of the Platte (the best, 
perhaps, that can be adopted) , I can assure him that 
he need not think to enter at once upon the paradise 
of his imagination. A dreary preliminary protracted 
crossing of the threshold awaits him before he finds 
himself fairly upon the verge of the '^ great American 
desert "; those barren wastes, the haunts of the buffalo 
and the Indian, where the very shadow of civilization 
lies a hundred leagues behind him. The intervening 
country, th^ wide and fertile belt that extends for 
several hundred miles beyond the extreme frontier, 
will probably answer tolerably well to his preconceived 



60 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ideas of the prairie; for this it is from which pictur- 
esque tourists, painters, poets, and novelists, who 
have seldom penetrated farther, have derived their 
conceptions of the whole region. If he has a painter's 
eye, he may find his period of probation not wholly 
void of interest. The scenery, though tame, is grace- 
ful and pleasing. Here are level plains, too wide for 
the eye to measure; green undulations, like motionless 
swells of the ocean; abundance of streams, followed 
through all their windings by lines of woods and 
scattered groves. But let him be as enthusiastic as 
he may, he will find enough to damp his ardor. His 
wagons will stick in the mud; his horses will break 
loose; harness will give way, and axle-trees prove 
unsound. His bed will be a soft one, consisting often 
of black mud, of the richest consistency. As for food, 
he must content himself with biscuit and salt provi- 
sions; for strange as it may seem, this tract of country 
produces very little game. As he advances, indeed, 
he will see, mouldering in the grass by his path, the 
vast antlers of the elk, and farther on, the whitened 
skulls of the buffalo, once swarming over this now 
deserted region. Perhaps, like us, he may journey for 
a fortnight, and see not so much as the hoof-print 
of a deer, in the spring, not even a prairie hen is to 
be had. 

Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for 
deficiency of game, he will find himself beset with 
'^ varmints" innumerable. The wolves will entertain 
him with a concerto at night, and skulk around him 



''JUMPING OFF" 61 

by day, just beyond rifle-shot; his horse will step into 
badger-holes; from every marsh and mud puddle will 
arise the bellowing, croaking, and triUing of legions 
of frogs, infinitely various in color, shape, and dimen- 
sions. A profusion of snakes will glide away from 
under his horse's feet, or quietly visit him in his tent 
at night; while the pertinacious humming of unnum- 
bered mosquitoes will banish sleep from his eyelids. 
When, thirsty with a long ride in the scorching sun 
over some boundless reach of prairie, he comes at 
length to a pool of water, and alights to drink, he 
discovers a troop of young tadpoles sporting in the 
bottom of his cup. Add to this, that all the morning 
the sun beats upon him with a sultry, penetrating 
heat, and that, with provoking regularity, at about 
four o'clock in the afternoon, a thunderstorm rises 
and drenches him to the skin. Such being the charms 
of this favored region, the reader will easily conceive 
the extent of our gratification at learning that for a 
week we had been journeying on the wrong track! 
How this agreeable discovery was made I will presently 
explain. 

One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we 
stopped to rest at noon upon the open prairie. No 
trees were in sight; but close at hand, a little dribbling 
brook was twisting from side to side through a hollow; 
now forming holes of stagnant water, and now gliding 
over the mud in a scarcely perceptible current, among 
a growth of sickly bushes, and great clumps of tall 
rank grass. The day was excessively hot and oppress- 



62 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ive. The horses and mules were rolling on the prairie 
to refresh themselves; or feeding among the bushes in 
the hollow. We had dined; and Delorier, puffing at 
his pipe, knelt on the grass, scrubbing our service of 
tin plate. Shaw lay in the shade, under the cart, to 
rest for a while, before the word should be given to 
"catch up." Henry Chatillon, before lying down, 
was looking about for signs of snakes, the only living 
things that he feared, and uttering various ejaculations 
of disgust, at finding several suspicious-looking holes 
close to the cart. I sat leaning against the wheel in 
a scanty strip of shade, making a pair of hobbles to 
replace those which my contumacious^ steed Pontiac 
had broken the night before. The camp of our 
friends, a rod or two distant, presented the same scene 
of lazy tranquillity. 

''Hallo!" cried Henry, looking up from his inspec- 
tion of the snake-holes, ''here comes the old Captain!" 

The Captain approached, and stood for a moment 
contemplating us in silence. 

"I say, Parkman," he began, "look at Shaw there, 
asleep under the cart, with the tar dripping off the 
hub of the wheel on his shoulder!" 

At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, 
and feeling the part indicated, he found his hand 
glued fast to his red flannel shirt. 

"He'll look well when he gets among the squaws, 
won't he?" observed the Captain, with a grin. 

He then crawled under the cart, and began to tell 
stories, of which his stock was inexhaustible. Yet 



''JUMPING OFF'' 63 

every moment he would glance nervously at the 
horses. At last he jumped up in great excitement. 
''See that horse! There — that fellow just walking 
over the hill! By Jove! he's off. It's your big horse, 
Shaw; no it isn't, it's Jack's. Jack! Jack! hallo, 
Jack!" Jack, thus invoked, jumped up and stared 
vacantly at us. 

''Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to 
lose him!" roared the Captain. 

Jack instantly set off at a run through the grass, 
his broad pantaloons flapping about his feet. The 
Captain gazed anxiously till he saw that the horse 
was caught; then he sat down, with a countenance of 
thoughtfulness and care. 

"I tell you what it is," he said, "this will never do 
at all. We shall lose every horse in the band some 
day or other, and then a pretty plight we should be 
in! Now I am convinced that the only way for us is 
to have every man in the camp stand horse-guard in 
rotation whenever we stop. Supposing a hundred 
Pawnees should jump up out of that ravine, all yelling 
and flapping their buffalo robes, in the way they do? 
Why, in two minutes not a hoof w^ould be in sight." 
We reminded the Captain that a hundred Pawnees 
would probably demolish the horse-guard, if he were 
to resist their depredations. 

"At any rate," pursued the Captain, evading the 
point, "our whole system is wrong; I'm convinced of 
it; it is totally unmilitary. Why, the way we travel, 
strung out over the prairie for a mile, an enemy might 



64 THE OREGON TRAIL 

attack the foremost men, and cut them off before the 
rest could come up." 

" We are not in an enemy's country yet/' said Shaw; 
'Svhen we are, we'll travel together." 

''Then/' said the Captain, "we might be attacked 
in camp. We've no sentinels; we camp in disorder; 
no precautions at all to guard against surprise! My 
own convictions are that we ought to camp in a hollow 
square, with the fires in the center; and have sentinels, 
and a regular password, appointed for every night. 
Besides, there should be videttes/ riding in advance, 
to find a place for the camp and give warning of an 
enemy. These are my convictions. I don't want to 
dictate to any man. I give advice to the best of my 
judgment, that's all; and then let people do as they 
please." 

We intimated that perhaps it would be as well to 
postpone such burdensome precautions until there 
should be some actual need of them; but he shook his 
head dubiously. The Captain's sense of military pro- 
priety had been severely shocked by what he considered 
the irregular proceedings of the party; and this 
was not the first time he had expressed himself upon 
the subject. But his " convictions" seldom produced 
any practical results. In the present case, he con- 
tented himself, as usual, with enlarging on the impor- 
tance of his suggestions, and wondering that they 
were not adopted. But his plan of sending out videttes 
seemed particularly dear to him; and as no one else 
was disposed to second his views on this point, he 



''JUMPING OFF'' 65 

took it into his head to ride forward that afternoon, 
himself. 

''Come, Parkman," said he, " will you go with me?" 

So we set out together, and rode a mile or two in 
advance. The Captain, in the course of twenty years' 
service in the British army, had seen something of 
life; one extensive side of it, at least; he had enjoyed 
the best opportunities for studying; and being natur- 
ally a pleasant fellow, he was a very entertaining 
companion. He cracked jokes and told stories for an 
hour or two; until, looking back, he saw the prairie 
behind us stretching away to the horizon, without a 
horseman or a wagon in sight. 

" Now," said the Captain, " I think the videttes had 
better stop till the main body comes up." 

I was of the same opinion. There was a thick 
growth of woods just before us, with a stream running 
through them. Having crossed this, we found on the 
other side a fine level meadow, half encircled by the 
trees; and fastening our horses to some bushes, we 
sat down on the grass, while, with an old stump of a 
tree for a target, I began to display the superiority 
of the renowned rifle of the backwoods over the foreign 
innovation borne by the Captain. At length voices 
could be heard in the distance behind the trees. 

"There they come!" said the Captain: "let's go and 
see how they get through the creek." 

We mounted and rode to the bank oT the stream, 
where the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, 
full of trees: as we looked down, we saw a confused 



66 THE OREGON TRAIL 

crowd of horsemen riding through the water; and 
among the dingy habiliments of our party glittered 
the uniforms of four dragoons. 

Shaw came whipping his horse up the bank, in 
advance of the rest, with a somewhat indignant 
countenance. The first word he spoke was a blessing^ 
fervently invoked on the head of R., who was riding, 
with a crestfallen air, in the rear. Thanks to the 
ingenious devices of the gentleman, we had missed the 
track entirely, and wandered, not toward the Platte, 
but to the village of the Iowa Indians.^ This we 
learned from the dragoons, who had lately deserted 
from Fort Leavenworth. They told us that our best 
plan now was to keep to the northward until we should 
strike the trail formed by several parties of Oregon 
emigrants, who had that season set out from St. 
Joseph in Missouri. 

In extremely bad temper, we encamped on this ill- 
starred spot; while the deserters, whose case admitted 
of no delay, rode rapidly forward. On the day fol- 
lowing, striking the St. Joseph trail, we turned our 
horses' heads toward Fort Laramie,^ then about 
seven hundred miles to the westward.^ 



CHAPTER V 
The "Big Blue" 

Everything here bites, stings, or bruises; every second of- 
your existence you are wounded by some piece of animal life 
that nobody has ever seen before except Swammerdam and 
Meriam. An insect with eleven legs is swimming in your tea-cup. 
A nondescript with nine wings is struggling in the small-beer, 
or a caterpillar with several legs in his belly is hastening 
over the bread and butter. 

Sydney Smith. 

The great medley of Oregon and California emi- 
grants, at their camps around Independence, had heard 
reports that several additional parties were on the 
point of setting out from St. Joseph farther to the 
northward. The prevailing impression was that 
these were Mormons/ twenty-three hundred in num- 
ber; and a great alarm was excited in consequence. 
The people of Illinois and Missouri, who composed 
by far the greater part of the emigrants, have never 
been on the best terms with the "Latter Day Saints"; 
and it is notorious throughout the country how much 
blood has been spilt in their feuds, even far within 
the limits of the settlements. No one could predict 
what would be the result, when large armed bodies 

67 



68 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of these fanatics^ should encounter the most impet- 
uous and reckless of their old enemies on the broad 
prairie, far beyond the reach of law or military force. 
The women and children at Independence raised a 
great outcry; the men themselves were seriously 
alarmed; and, as I learned, they sent to Colonel 
Kearney, requesting an escort of dragoons as far as 
the Platte. This was refused; and as the sequel 
proved, there was no occasion for it. The St. Joseph 
emigrants were as good Christians and as zealous 
Mormon-haters as the rest; and the very few families 
of the ^^ Saints" who passed out this season by the 
route of the Platte remained behind until the great 
tide of emigration had gone by; standing in quite as 
much awe of the ^^ gentiles" as the latter did of them. 

We were now, as I before mentioned, upon this 
St. Joseph trail. It was evident, by the traces, that 
large parties were a few days in advance of us; and 
as we too supposed them to be Mormons, we had 
some appprehension of interruption from this horde 
of fanatics. 

The journey was somewhat monotonous. One 
day we rode on for hours, without seeing a tree or a 
bush; before, behind, and on either side, stretched 
the vast expanse, rolling in a succession of graceful 
swells, covered with the unbroken carpet of fresh 
green grass. Here and there a crow, or a raven, or 
a turkey-buzzard, relieved the uniformity. 

" What shall we do to-night for wood and water?" 
we began to ask of each other; for the sun was within 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 69 

an hour of setting. At length a dark green speck 
appeared, far off on the right; it was the top of a tree, 
peering over a swell of the prairie; and leaving the 
trail, we made all haste toward it. It proved to be 
the vanguard of a cluster of bushes and low trees, 
that surrounded some pools of water in an extensive 
hollow; so we encamped on the rising ground near it. 

Shaw and I were sitting in the tent, when Delorier 
thrust his "brown face and old felt hat into the open- 
ing, and dilating his eyes to their utmost extent, 
announced supper. There were the tin cups and the 
iron spoons, arranged in military order on the grass, 
and the coffee-pot predominant in the midst. The 
meal was soon dispatched; but Henry Chatillon still 
sat cross-legged, dallying with the remnant of his 
coffee, the beverage in universal use upon the prairie, 
and an especial favorite with him. He preferred it 
in its virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar or cream; 
and on the present occasion it met his entire approval, 
being exceedingly strong, or, as he expressed it, 
'^ right black." 

It was a rich and gorgeous sunset — an American 
sunset; and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected 
from some extensive pools of water among the 
shadowy copses in the meadow below. 

''I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw. "How 
is it, Delorier? Any chance for a swim down there?" 

"Ah! I cannot tell; just as you please, monsieur," 
replied Delorier, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed 
by his ignorance of English, and extremely anxious 



70 THE OREGON TRAIL 

to conform in all respects to the opinion and wishes 
of his bourgeois. 

"Look at his moccasin/^ said I. It had evidently 
been lately immersed in a profound abyss of black 
mud. 

"Come," said Shaw; "at any rate we can see for 
ourselves." 

We set out together; and as we approached the 
bushes, which w^ere at some distance, we found the 
ground becoming rather treacherous. We could 
only get along by stepping upon large clumps of tall 
rank grass, with fathomless gulfs between, like 
innumerable little quaking islands in an ocean of 
mud, where a false step would have involved our 
boots in a catastrophe like that w^hich had befallen 
Delorier's moccasins. The thing looked desperate; 
we separated, so as to search in different directions, 
Shaw going off to the right, while I kept straight 
forward. At last I came to the edge of the bushes: 
they were young water-willows, covered with their 
caterpillar-like blossoms, but intervening between 
them and the last grass clump was a black and deep 
slough, over which, by a vigorous exertion, I con- 
trived to jump. Then I shouldered my way through 
the willows, tramping them down by main force, till 
I came to a wide stream of water, three inches deep, 
languidly creeping along over a bottom of sleek mud. 
My arrival produced a great commotion. A huge 
green bullfrog uttered an indignant croak, and 
jumped off the bank with a loud splash: his webbed 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 71 

feet twinkled above the surface, as he jerked them 
energetically upward, and I could see him ensconcing^ 
himself in the unresisting slime at the bottom, whence 
several large air bubbles struggled lazily to the top. 
Some little spotted frogs instantly followed the 
patriarch's example; and then three turtles, not 
larger than a dollar, tumbled themselves off a broad 
'Mily pad," where they had been reposing. At the 
same time a snake, gayly striped with black and 
yellow, glided out from the bank, and writhed across 
to the other side; and a small stagnant pool into 
which my foot had inadvertently pushed a stone was 
instantly alive with a congregation of black tadpoles. 

''Any chance for a bath, where you are?" called 
out Shaw, from a distance. 

The answer was not encouraging. I retreated 
through the willows, and rejoining my companion, 
we proceeded to push our researches in company. 
Not far on the right, a rising ground, covered with 
trees and bushes, seemed to sink down abruptly to 
the water, and give hope of better success; so toward 
this we directed our steps. When we reached the 
place we found it no easy matter to get along between 
the hill and the water, impeded as we were by a 
growth of stiff, obstinate young birch trees, laced 
together by grape-vines. In the twilight, we now 
and then, to support ourselves, snatched at the touch- 
me-not stem of some ancient sweet-brier, " born to 
blush unseen" and grown prim and scraggy with 
protracted singleness. Shaw, who was in advance, 



72 THE OREGON TRAIL 

suddenly uttered a somewhat emphatic monosyl- 
lable; and looking up I saw him wdth one hand grasp- 
ing a sapling, and one foot immersed in the water, 
from which he had forgotten to withdraw it, his 
whole attention being engaged in contemplating the 
movements of a water-snake, about five feet long, 
curiously checkered with black and green, who was 
deliberately swimming across the pool. There being 
no stick or stone at hand to pelt him with, we looked 
at him for a time in silent disgust; and then pushed 
forward. Our perseverance was at last rewarded; for 
several rods farther on, w^e emerged upon a little level 
grassy nook among the brushwood, and by an extra- 
ordinary dispensation of fortune, the weeds and 
floating sticks, w^hich elsewhere covered the pool, 
seemed to have drawn apart, and left a few yards of 
clear water just in front of this favored spot. We 
sounded it with a stick; it was four feet deep; we 
lifted a specimen in our closed hands; it seemed 
reasonably transparent, so w^e decided that the time 
for action was arrived. But our ablutions were sud- 
denly interrupted by ten thousand punctures, like 
poisoned needles, and the humming of myriads of 
overgrown mosquitoes, rising in all directions from 
their native mud and slime and swarming to the feast. 
We were fain to beat a retreat with all possible speed. 

We made toward the tents, much refreshed by the 
bath, which the heat of the weather, joined to our 
prejudices, had rendered very desirable. 

"What's the matter with the Captain? Look at 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 73 

him!" said Shaw. The Captain stood alone on the 
prairie, swinging his hat violently around his head, and 
lifting first one foot and then the other, without mov- 
ing from the spot. First he looked down to the ground 
with an air of supreme abhorrence; then he gazed 
upward with a perplexed and indignant countenance, 
as if trying to trace the flight of an unseen enemy. 
We called to know what was the matter; but he 
replied only by execrations directed against some 
unknown object. We approached, when our ears 
were saluted by a droning sound, as if twenty bee- 
hives had been overturned at once. The air above 
was full of large black insects, in a state of great 
commotion, and multitudes were flying about just 
above the tops of the grass-blades. 

'^ Don't be afraid," called the Captain, observing 
us recoil. ^'The brutes won't sting." 

At this I knocked one down with my hat, and 
discovered him to be no other than a ''dor-bug"^ and 
looking closer, we found the ground thickly perforated 
with their holes. 

We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, 
and walking up the rising ground to the tents, found 
Delorier's fire still glowing brightly. We sat down 
around it, and Shaw began to expatiate on the 
admirable facilities for bathing that we had discovered, 
and recommended the Captain by all means to go 
down there before breakfast in the morning. The 
Captain was in the act of remarking that he couldn't 
have believed it possible, when he suddenly inter- 



74 THE OREGON TRAIL 

rupted himself, and clapped his hand to his cheek, 
exclaiming that "those infernal humbugs were at 
him again." In fact, we began to hear sounds as if 
bullets were humming over our heads. In a moment 
something rapped me sharply on the forehead, then 
upon the neck, and immediately I felt an indefinite 
number of sharp wiry claws in active motion, as if 
their owner were bent on pushing his explorations 
farther. I seized him, and dropped him into the fire. 
Our party speedily broke up, and we adjourned to 
our respective tents, where, closing the opening fast, 
we hoped to be exempt from invasion. But all pre- 
caution was fruitless. The dor-bugs hummed through 
the tent, and marched over our faces until daylight; 
when, opening our blankets, we found several dozen 
clinging there with the utmost tenacity. The first 
object that met our eyes in the morning was Delorier, 
who seemed to be apostrophizing^ his frying pan, 
which he held by the handle at arm's length. It 
appeared that he had left it at night by the fire; and 
the bottom was now covered with dor-bugs, firmly 
imbedded. Multitudes besides, curiously parched 
and shriveled, lay scattered among the ashes. 

The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. 
We had just taken our seats at breakfast, or rather 
reclined in the classic mode,^ when an exclamation 
from Henry Chatillon, and a shout of alarm from the 
Captain, gave warning of some casualty, and looking 
up, we saw the whole band of animals, twenty-three 
in number, filing off for the settlements, the incorri- 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 75 

gible Pontiac at their head, jumping along with 
hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than grace- 
ful. Three of four of us ran to cut them off, dashing 
as best we might through the tall grass, which was 
glittering with myriads of dewdrops. After a race 
of a mile or more, Shaw caught a horse. Tying the 
trail-rope by way of bridle round the animal's jaw, 
and leaping upon his back, he got in advance of the 
remaining fugitives, while we, soon bringing them 
together, drove them in a crowd up to the tents, 
where each man caught and saddled his own. Then 
were heard lamentations and curses; for half the 
horses had broken their hobbles, and many were 
seriously galled by attempting to run in fetters.* 

It was late that morning before we were on the 
march; and early in the afternoon w^e were compelled 
to encamp, for a thunder-gust came up and suddenly 
enveloped us in whirling sheets of rain. AVith much 
ado, we pitched our tents amid the tempest, and all 
night long the thunder bellowed and growled over 
our heads. In the morning, light peaceful show^ers 
succeeded the cataracts of rain that had been drench- 
ing us through the canvas of our tents. About noon, 
when there were some treacherous indications of fair 
weather, we got in motion again. 

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open 
prairie: the clouds were like piles of cotton; and where 
the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid 
aspect. The sun beat down upon us with a sultry 
penetrating heat almost insupportable, and as our 



76 THE OREGON TRAIL 

party crept slowly along over the interminable level, 
the horses hung their heads as they waded fetlock 
deep through the mud, and the men slouched into the 
easiest positions upon the saddle. At last, toward 
evening, the old familiar black heads of thunder- 
clouds rose fast above the horizon, and the same deep 
muttering of distant thunder that had become the 
ordinary accompaniment of our afternoon's journey 
began to roll hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few 
minutes elapsed before the whole sky was densely 
shrouded, and the prairie and some clusters of woods 
in front assumed a purple hue beneath the inky 
shadows. Suddenly from the densest fold of the 
cloud the flash leaped out, quivering again and again 
down to the edge of the prairie; and at the same 
instant came the sharp burst and the long rolling peal 
of the thunder. A cool wind, filled with the smell 
of rain, just then overtook us, leveling the tall grass 
by the side of the path. 

'^Come on; we must ride for it!" shouted Shaw, 
rushing past at full speed, his led horse snorting at 
his side. The whole party broke into full gallop 
for the trees in front. Passing these, we found 
beyond them a meadow which they half inclosed. 
We rode pell-mell upon the ground, leaped from 
horseback, tore off our saddles, and in a moment 
each man was kneeling at his horse's feet. The 
hobbles were adjusted and the animals turned loose; 
then, as the wagons came wheeling rapidly to the 
spot, we seized upon the tent-poles, and just as the 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 77 

storm broke, we were prepared to receive it. It 
came upon us almost wath the darkness of night; 
the trees, which were close at hand, were completely 
shrouded by the roaring torrents of rain. 

We were sitting in the tent, when Delorier, with 
his broad felt hat hanging about his ears, and his 
shoulders glistening w^ith rain, thrust in his head. 

"Voulez-vous^ die souper, tout de suite? I can' 
make a fire, sous la charette — I b'lieve so — I try." 

" Never mind supper, man; come in out of the rain." 
Delorier accordingly crouched in the entrance, for 
modesty would not permit him to intrude farther. 

Our tent was none of the best defense against such 
a cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, but it 
beat through the canvas in a fine drizzle, that wetted 
us just as effectually. We sat upon our saddles 
with faces of the utmost surliness, while the water 
dropped from the vizors of our caps, and trickled 
down our cheeks. My india-rubber cloak conducted 
twenty little rapid streamlets to the ground; and 
Shaw's blanket-coat was saturated like a sponge. 
But what most concerned us was the sight of several 
puddles of water rapidly accumulating; one in par- 
ticular, that was gathering around the tent-pole, 
threatened to overspread the whole area wdthin the 
tent, holding forth but an indifferent promise of a 
comfortable night's rest. Toward sunset, however, 
the storm ceased as suddenly as it began. A bright 
streak of clear red sky appeared above the western 
verge of the prairie, the horizontal rays of the sink- 



78 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ing sun streamed through it and glittered in a thou- 
sand prismatic colors upon the dripping groves and 
the prostrate grass. The pools in the tent dwindled 
and sunk into the saturated soil. 

But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had 
night set in, when the tumult broke forth anew. 
The thunder here is not like the tame thunder of 
'New England. Bursting with a terrific crash directly 
above our heads, it roared over the boundless waste 
of prairie, seeming to roll around the whole circle 
of the firmament with a peculiar and awful reverbera- 
tion. The lightning flashed all night, playing with 
its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, revealing 
the vast expanse of the plain, and then leaving us 
shut in as by a palpable wall of darkness. 

It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal 
awakened us, and made us conscious of the electric 
battle that w^as raging, and of the floods that dashed 
upon the stanch canvas over our heads. We lay upon 
india-rubber cloths, placed between our blankets 
and the soil. For a while they excluded the water 
to admiration; but when at length it accumulated 
and began to run over the edges, they served equally 
well to retain it, so that toward the end of the night 
we were unconsciously reposing in small pools of 
rain. 

On finally awaking in the morning the prospect 
was not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in 
torrents; but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity 
upon the strained and saturated canvas. We dis- 



THE ''BIG BLUE" 79 

engaged ourselves from our blankets, every fiber of 
which glistened with little bead-like drops of water, 
and looked out in vain hope of discovering some 
token of fair weather. The clouds, in lead-colored 
volumes, rested upon the dismal verge of the prairie, 
or hung sluggishly overhead, while the earth wore 
an aspect no more attractive than the heavens, 
exhibiting nothing but pools of water, grass beaten' 
down, and mud well trampled by our mules and 
horses. Our companions' tent, with an air of forlorn 
and passive misery, and their wagons in like manner, 
drenched and woe-begone, stood not far off. The 
Captain Avas just returning from his morning's in- 
spection of the horses. He stalked through the mist 
and rain, with his plaid around his shoulders; his 
little pipe, dingy as an antiquarian relic, projecting 
from beneath his mustache, and his brother Jack at 
his heels. 

"Good-morning, Captain." 

"Good-morning to your honors," said the Captain, 
affecting the Hibernian^ accent; but at that instant, 
as he stooped to enter the tent, he tripped upon the 
cords at the entrance, and pitched forward against 
the guns which were strapped around the pole in the 
center. 

"You are nice men, you are!" said he, after an 
ejaculation not necessary to be recorded, "to set a 
man-trap before your door every morning to catch 
your visitors." 

Then he sat down upon Henry Chatillon's saddle. 



80 THE OREGON TRAIL 

We tossed a piece of buffalo robe to Jack, who was 
looking about in some embarrassment. He spread 
it on the ground, and took his seat, with a stolid 
countenance, at his brother's side. 

'^Exhilarating weather, Captain!" 

'^Oh, delightful, delightful!'' replied the Captain. 
"I knew it would be so; so much for starting yesterday 
at noon! I knew how it would turn out; and I said 
so at the time." 

'^ You said just the contrary to us. We were in no 
hurry, and only moved because you insisted on it." 

"Gentlemen," said the Captain, taking his pipe 
from his mouth with an air of extreme gravity, "it 
was no plan of mine. There's a man among us who 
is determined to have everything his own way. 
You may express your opinion; but don't expect him 
to listen. You may be as reasonable as you like; 
oh, it all goes for nothing! That man is resolved to 
rule the roost, and he'll set his face against any plan 
that he didn't think of himself." 

The Captain puffed for a while at his pipe, as if 
meditating upon his grievances; then he began again: 

"For twenty years I have been in the British army; 
and in all that time I never had half so much dissen- 
sion, and quarreling, and nonsense, as since I have 
been on this cursed prairie. He's the most uncom- 
fortable man I ever met." 

"Yes," said Jack; "and don't you know. Bill, 
how he drank up all the coffee last night, and put the 
rest by for himself till the morning!" 



THE "BIG BLUE" 81 

''He pretends to know everything/' resumed the 
Captam; ''nobody must give orders but him! It's 
oh! we must do this; and, oh! we must do that; 
and the tent must be pitched here, and the horses 
must be picketed there; for nobody knows as well 
as he does." 

We were a little surprised at this disclosure of 
domestic dissensions among our allies, for though 
we knew of their existence, we were not aware of 
their extent. The persecuted Captain seeming 
wholly at a loss as to the course of conduct that he 
should pursue, we recommended him to adopt prompt 
and energetic measures; but all his military experi- 
ence had failed to teach him the indispensable lesson 
to be "hard," w^hen the emergency requires it. 

"For twenty years," he repeated, "I have been 
in the British army, and in that time I have been 
intimately acquainted with some two hundred officers, 
young and old, and I never yet quarreled with any 
man. Oh, 'anything for a quiet life!' that's my 
maxim." 

We intimated that the prairie was hardly the place 
to enjoy a quiet life, but that, in the present circum- 
stances, the best thing he could do toward securing 
his w^ished-for tranquillity, was immediately to put 
a period^ to the nuisance that disturbed it. But 
again the Captain's easy good-nature recoiled from 
the task. The somewhat vigorous measures neces- 
sary to gain the desired result were utterly repugnant 
to him; he preferred to pocket his grievances, still 



82 THE OREGON TRAIL 

retaining the privilege of grumbling about them. 
''Oh, anything for a quiet life!" he said again, circling 
back to his favorite maxim. 

But to glance at the previous history of our trans- 
atlantic confederates. The Captain had sold his 
commission, and was living in bachelor ease and 
dignity in his paternal halls, near Dublin.* He 
hunted, fished, rode steeple-chases, ran races, and 
talked of his former exploits. He was surrounded 
with the trophies of his rod and gun; the walls were 
plentifully garnished, he told us, with moose-horns 
and deer-horns, bear-skins and fox-tails; for the 
Captain's double-barreled rifle had seen service in 
Canada and Jamaica;^ he had killed salmon in Nova 
Scotia, and trout, by his own account, in all the 
streams of the three kingdoms. But in an evil hour 
a seductive stranger came from London; no less a 
person than R., who, among other multitudinous 
wanderings, had once been upon the western prairies, 
and naturally enough was anxious to visit them again. 
The Captain's imagination was inflamed by the 
pictures of a hunter's paradise that his guest held 
forth; he conceived an ambition to add to his other 
trophies the horns of a buffalo, and the claws of a 
grizzly bear; so he and R. struck a league to travel 
in company. Jack followed his brother, as a matter 
of course. Two weeks on board the Atlantic steamer 
brought them to Boston; in two weeks more of hard 
traveling they reached St. Louis, from which a ride 
of six days carried them to the frontier; and here we 



THE ''BIG BLUE" 83 

found them, in the full tide of preparation for their 
journey. 

We had been throughout on terms of intimacy 
with the Captain, but R., the motive power of our 
companion's branch of the expedition, was scarcely 
known to us. His voice, indeed, might be heard 
incessantly; but at camp he remained chiefly within 
the tent, and on the road he either rode by himself^ 
or else remained in close conversation with his friend 
Wright, the muleteer. As the Captain left the tent 
that morning, I observed R. standing by the fire, 
and having nothing else to do, I determined to ascer- 
tain, if possible, what manner of man he was. He 
had a book under his arm, but just at present he 
w^as engrossed in actively superintending the opera- 
tions of Lorel, the hunter, who was cooking some 
corn-bread over the coals for breakfast. R. was a 
well-formed and rather good-looking man, some 
thirty years old; considerably younger than the 
Captain. He wore a beard and mustache of the 
oakum complexion, and his attire was altogether 
more elegant than one ordinarily sees on the prairie. 
He wore his cap on one side of his head; his checked 
shirt, open in front, was in very neat order, consider- 
ing the circumstances, and his blue pantaloons, of the 
John Bull cut, might once have figured in Bond Street.' 

"Turn over that cake, man! turn it over, quick! 
Don't you see it burning?" 

"It ain't half done," growled Lorel, in the amiable 
tone of a whipped bull-dog. 



84 THE OREGON TRAIL 

'at is. Turn it over, I tell you!" 

Lord, a strong, sullen-looking Canadian, who, 
from having spent his life among the wildest and 
most remote of the Indian tribes, had imbibed much 
of their dark, vindictive spirit, looked ferociously up, 
as if he longed to leap upon his bourgeois and throttle 
him; but he obeyed the order, coming from so experi- 
enced an artist. 

''It was a good idea of yours," said I, seating my- 
self on the tongue of a wagon, "to bring Indian 
meal with you." 

'^ Yes, yes," said R., "it's good bread for the prairie 
— good bread for the prairie. I tell you that's burn- 
ing again." 

Here he stooped down, and unsheathing the silver- 
mounted hunting-knife in his belt, began to perform 
the part of cook himself; at the same time requesting 
me to hold for a moment the book under his arm, 
which interfered with the exercise of these important 
functions. I opened it; it was Macaulay's Lays,^ 
and I made some remark, expressing my admiration 
of the work. 

"Yes, yes; a pretty good thing. Macaulay can do 
better than that, though. I know him very w^ell. 
I have traveled with him. Where was it we met 
first — at Damascus?^ No, no; it was in Italy." 

"So," said I, "you have been over the same 
ground with your countryman, the author of 'Eothen'?^ 
There has been some discussion in America as to who 
he is. I have heard Milne's name mentioned." 



THE ''BIG BLUE" 85 

^'Milne's? Oh, no, no, no; not at all. It was 
Kingiake; Kinglake's the man. I know him very 
well; that is, I have seen him." 

Here Jack 0., who stood by, interposed a remark 
(a thing not common with him), observing that he 
thought the weather would become fair before 
twelve o'clock. 

^'It's going to rain all day,'' said R., "and clear up 
in the middle of the night." 

Just then the clouds began to dissipate in a very 
unequivocal^ manner; but Jack, not caring to defend 
his point against so authoritative a declaration, 
walked away whistling, and we resumed our conver- 
sation. 

" Borrow,^ the author of 'The Bible in Spain/ I 
presume you know him, too?" 

''Oh, certainly; I know all those men. By the 
way, they told me that one of your American writers, 
Judge Story, ^ had died lately. I edited some of his 
works in London; not without faults, though." 

Here followed an erudite commentary on certain 
points of law, in which he particularly animadverted 
on the errors into which he considered that the judge 
had been betrayed. At length, having touched 
successively on an infinite variety of topics, I found 
that I had the happiness of discovering a man equally 
competent* to enlighten me upon them all, equally 
an authority on matters of science or literature, 
philosophy or fashion. The part I bore in the con- 
versation was by no means a prominent one; it was 



86 THE OREGON TRAIL 

only necessary to set him going, and when he had 
run long enough upon one topic, to divert him to 
another and lead him on to pour out his heaps of 
treasure in succession. 

''What has that fellow been saying to you?" said 
Shaw, as I returned to the tent. "I have heard 
nothing but his talking for the last half-hour.'^ 

R. had none of the peculiar traits of the ordinary 
''British snob"; his absurdities were all his own, 
belonging to no particular nation or clime. He was 
possessed with an active devil that had driven him 
over land and sea, to no great purpose, as it seemed; 
for although he had the usual complement of eyes 
and ears, the avenues between these organs and his 
brain appeared remarkably narrow and precarious. 
His energy was much more conspicuous than his 
wisdom; but his predominant characteristic was a 
magnanimous ambition to exercise on all occasions 
an awful rule and supremacy, and this propensity 
equally displayed itself, as the reader will have 
observed, whether the matter in question "was the bak- 
ing of a hoe-cake or a point of international law. When 
such diverse elements as he and the easy-tempered 
Captain came in contact, no wonder some commo- 
tion ensued; R. rode rough-shod, from morning till 
night, over his military ally. 

At noon the sky was clear and we set out, trailing 
through mud and slime six inches deep. That 
night we were spared the customary infliction of the 
shower-bath. 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 87 

On the next afternoon we were moving slowly 
along, not far from a patch of woods which lay on 
the right. Jack C. rode a little in advance; 

The livelong day he had not spoke; 

when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, 
and roared out to his brother: 

'^O Bill, here's a cow!" 

The Captain instantly galloped forward, and he 
and Jack made a vain attempt to capture the prize; 
but the cow, with a well-grounded distrust of their 
intentions, took refuge among the trees. R. joined 
them, and they soon drove her out. We watched 
their evolutions as they galloped around her, trying 
in vain to noose her with their trail-ropes, which 
they had converted into lariettes^ for the occasion. 
At length they resorted to milder measures, and the 
cow was driven along with the party. Soon after 
the usual thunderstorm came up, the wind blowing 
with such fury that the streams of rain flew almost 
horizontally along the prairie, roaring like a cataract. 
The horses turned tail to the storm, and stood hang- 
ing their heads, bearing the infliction with an air of 
meekness and resignation; while we drew our heads 
between our shoulders, and crouched forward, so 
as to make our backs serve as a penthouse^ for the 
rest of our persons. Meanwhile the cow, taking 
advantage of the tumult, ran off, to the great dis- 
comfiture of the Captain, who seemed to consider her 
as his own especial prize, since she had been dis- 



88 THE OREGON TRAIL 

covered by Jack. In defiance of the storm, he pulled 
his cap tight over his brows, jerked a huge buffalo 
pistol from his holster, and set out at full speed after 
her. This was the last we saw of them for some 
time, the mist and rain making an impenetrable veil; 
but at length we heard the Captain's shout, and saw 
him looming through the tempest, the picture of a 
Hibernian cavalier,^ with his cocked pistol held 
aloft for safety's sake, and a countenance of anxiety 
and excitement. The cow trotted before him, but 
exhibited evident signs of an intention to run off 
again, and the Captain was roaring to us to head her. 
But the rain had got in behind our coat collars, and 
was traveling over our necks in numerous little 
streamlets, and being afraid to move our heads, for 
fear of admitting more, we sat still and immovable, 
looking at the Captain askance, and laughing at his 
frantic movements. At last the cow made a sudden 
plunge and ran off; the Captain grasped his pistol 
firmly, spurred his horse, and galloped after, with 
evident designs of mischief. In a moment we heard 
the faint report, deadened by the rain, and then the 
conqueror and his victim reappeared, the latter shot 
through the body, and quite helpless. Not long 
after the storm moderated, and we advanced again. 
The cow walked painfully along under the charge 
of Jack, to whom the Captain had committed her, 
while he himself rode forward in his old capacity of 
vidette. We were approaching a long line of trees 
that followed a stream stretching across our path, 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 89 

far in front, when we beheld the vidette galloping 
toward us, apparently much excited, but with a 
broad grin on his face. 

"Let that cow drop behind!" he shouted to us; 
"here's her owners!" 

And in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a 
large white object, like a tent, was visible behind 
them. On approaching, however, we found, instead 
of the expected Mormon camp, nothing but the 
lonely prairie, and a large white rock standing by 
the path. The cow therefore resumed her place in 
our procession. She walked on until we encamped, 
when R,., firmly approaching with his enormous 
English double-barreled rifle, calmly and deliberate- 
ly took aim at her heart, and discharged into it 
first one bullet and then the other. She was then 
butchered on the most approved principles of 
woodcraft,^ and furnished a very welcome item 
to our somewhat limited bill of fare. 

In a day or two more we reached the " Big Blue." 
This, the reader will probably need to be informed, 
is the name of a river, and by titles equally elegant, 
almost all the streams of this region are designated. 
We had struggled through ditches and little brooks 
all that morning; but on traversing the dense woods 
that lined the banks of the Blue, we found that 
more formidable difficulties awaited us, for the stream, 
swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, and rapid. 

Xo sooner were we on the spot than R. had flung 
off his clothes, and was swimming across, or splashing 



90 THE OREGON TRAIL 

through the shallows, with the end of a rope between 
his teeth. We all looked on in admiration, wonder- 
ing what might be the design of this energetic prep- 
aration; but soon we heard him shouting: "Give 
that rope a turn round that stump! You, Lorel: 
do you hear? Look sharp now, Boisverd! Come 
over to this side, some of you, and help me!" etc., etc. 
The men to whom these orders were directed paid 
not the least attention to them, though they were 
poured out without pause or intermission. Henry 
Chatil on directed the work, and it proceeded quietly 
and rapidly.^ R.'s sharp brattling^ voice might have 
been heard incessantly; and he was leaping about 
with the utmost activity, multiplying himself, after 
the manner of great commanders, as if his universal 
presence and supervision were of the last necessity. 
His commands were rather amusingly inconsistent; 
for when he saw that the men would not do as he 
told them, he wisely accommodated himself to cir- 
cumstances, and with the utmost vehemence ordered 
them to do precisely that which they were at the 
time engaged upon, no doubt recollecting the story 
of Mahomet and the refractory mountain.^ Shaw 
smiled significantly; R. observed it, and, approach- 
ing with a countenance of lofty indignation, began 
to vapor a little, but was instantly reduced to silence. 
The raft was at length complete. We piled our 
goods upon it, with the exception of our guns, which 
each man chose to retain in his own keeping. Lorel, 
Boisverd, Wright, and Delorier took their stations 



THE ''BIG BLUE'' 91 

at the four corners, to hold it together, and swim 
across with it; and in a moment more, all our earthly- 
possessions were floating on the turbid waters of the 
Big Blue. We sat on the bank, anxiously watching 
the result, until we saw the raft safe landed in a little 
cove far down on the opposite bank. The empty 
wagons were easily passed across; and then each 
man mounting a horse, we rode through the stream, 
the stray animals following of their own accord. 
Thus we crossed the Big Blue, the most formidable 
obstacle that lay in our way to the Platte. 



CHAPTER VI 

The Platte and the Desert 

See'st thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 
The seat of desolation ? 

Paradise Lost. 

Here have we war for war, and blood for blood! 

King John. 

We were now arrived at the close of our solitary 
journeyings along the St. Joseph trail. On the 
evening of the twenty-third of May we encamped 
near its junction with the old legitimate trail^ of the 
Oregon emigrants. We had ridden long that after- 
noon, trying in vain to find wood and water, until 
at length we saw the sunset sky reflected from a pool 
encircled by bushes and a rock or two. The water 
lay in the bottom of a hollow, the smooth prairie 
gracefully rising in ocean-like swells on every side. 
We pitched our tents by it; not, however, before the 
keen eye of Henry Chatillon had discerned some 
unusual object upon the faintly-defined outline of 
the distant swell. But in the moist, hazy atmos- 
phere of the evening, nothing could be clearly dis- 
tinguished. As we lay around the fire after supper, 
a low and distant sound, strange enough amid the 

92 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 93 

loneliness of the prairie, reached our ears — peals of 
laughter, and the faint, voices of men and women. 
For eight days we had not encountered a human being, 
and this singular warning of their vicinity had an 
effect extremely wild and impressive. 

About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the 
hill on horseback, and splashing through the pool 
rode up to the tents. He was enveloped in a huge 
cloak, and his broad felt hat was weeping about his 
ears with the drizzling moisture of the evening. 
Another followed, a stout, square-built, intelligent- 
looking man, who announced himself as leader of an 
emigrant party encamped a mile in advance of us. 
About twenty wagons, he said, were with him; the 
rest of his party were on the other side of the Big 
Blue, waiting for a woman who was in the pains of 
child-birth, and quarreling meanwhile among them- 
selves. 

These were the first emigrants that we had over- 
taken, although we had found abundant and melan- 
choly traces of their progress throughout the whole 
course of the journey. Sometimes we passed the 
grave of one who had sickened and died on the way. 
The earth was usually torn up, and covered thickly 
with wolf-tracks. Some had escaped this violation. 
One morning a piece of plank, standing upright on 
the summit of a grassy hill, attracted our notice, 
and riding up to it we found the following words 
very roughly traced upon it, apparently by a red- 
hot piece of iron: 



94 THE OREGON TRAIL 

MARY ELLIS. 

DIED MAY 7th, 1845. 
AGED TWO MONTHS. 

Such tokens were of common occurrence. Nothing 
could speak more for the hardihood, or rather infatua- 
tion, of the adventurers, or the sufferings that await 
them upon the journey. 

We were late in breaking up our camp on the 
following morning, and scarcely had we ridden a 
mile when we saw, far in advance of us, drawn 
against the horizon, a line of objects stretching at 
regular intervals along the level edge of the prairie. 
An intervening swell soon hid them from sight, 
until, ascending it a quarter of an hour after, we saw 
close before us the emigrant caravan, with its heavy 
white wagons creeping on in their slow procession, 
and a large drove of cattle following behind. Half 
a dozen yellow-visaged Missourians, mounted on 
horseback, were cursing and shouting among them; 
their lank angular proportions enveloped in brown 
homespun, evidently cut and adjusted by the hands 
of a domestic female tailor. As we approached, they 
greeted us with the polished salutation: ''How are ye, 
boys? Are ye for Oregon or California?"^ 

As we pushed rapidly past the wagons, children's 
faces were thrust out from the white coverings to 
look at us; while the care-worn, thin-featured matron, 
or the buxom girl, seated in front, suspended the knit- 
ting on which most of them were engaged to stare at us 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 95 

with wondering curiosity. By the side of each wagon 
stalked the proprietor, urging on his patient oxen, who 
shouldered heavily along, inch by inch, on their 
interminable journey. It was easy to see that fear 
and dissension prevailed among them; some of the 
men-^but these, with one exception, were bachelors — 
looked wistfully upon us as w^e rode lightly and swiftly 
past, and then impatiently at their own lumbering 
wagons and heavy-gaited oxen. Others were unwill- 
ing to advance at all until the party they had left 
behind should have rejoined them. Many were mur- 
muring against the leader they had chosen, and 
wished to depose him; discontents were fermented by 
some ambitious spirits, w^ho had hopes of succeeding 
in his place. The women were divided between regrets 
for the homes they had left and apprehension of the 
deserts and the savages before them. 

We soon left them far behind, and fondly hoped 
that we had taken a final leave; but unluckily our 
companions' wagon stuck so long in a deep muddy 
ditch that, before it was extricated, the van of the 
emigrant caravan appeared again, descending a ridge 
close at hand. Wagon after wagon plunged through 
the mud; and as it was nearly noon, and the place prom- 
ised shade and water, we saw with much gratification 
that they were resolved to encamp. Soon the wagons 
were wheeled into a circle; the cattle were grazing 
over the meadow, and the men, with sour, sullen faces, 
were looking about for wood and water. They seemed 
to meet with but indifferent success. As we left the 



96 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ground, I saw a tall slouching fellow with the nasal 
accent of ''dow^n east/'^ contemplating the contents 
of his tin cup, which he had just filled with water. 

"Look here, you," he said; "it's chock full of 
animals!" 

The cup, as he held it out, exhibited, in fact, an ex- 
traordinary variety and profusion of animal and vege- 
table life. 

Riding up the little hill and looking back on the 
meadow, we could easily see that all was not right in 
the camp of the emigrants. The men were crowded 
together, and an angry discussion seemed to be going 
forward. R. was missing from his wonted place in 
the line, and the Captain told us he had remained 
behind to get his horse shod by a blacksmith who 
was attached to the emigrant party. Something 
whispered in our ears that mischief was on foot; we 
kept on, however, and coming soon to a stream of 
tolerable water, we stopped to rest and dine. Still 
the absentee lingered behind. At last, at the distance 
of a mile, he and his horse suddenly appeared, sharply 
defined against the sky on the summit of a hill; and 
close behind, a huge white object rose slowly into 
view. 

"What is that blockhead bringing with him now?" 

A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowly and 
solemnly, one behind the other, four long trains of 
oxen and four emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of 
the declivity and gravely descended, while R. rode 
in state in the van. It seems that, during the process 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 97 

of shoeing the horse, the smothered dissensions among 
the emigrants suddenly broke into open rupture. 
Some insisted on pushing forward, some on remaining 
where they were, and some on going back. Kearsley, 
their captain, threw up his command in disgust. 
^^ And now, boys,'' said he, '^ if any of you are for going 
ahead, just you come along with me." 

Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one 
small child, made up the force of the ^^ go-ahead " fac- 
tion,^ and R., with his usual proclivity toward mischief, 
invited them to join our party. Fear of the Indians — 
for I can conceive of no other motive — must have 
induced him to court so burdensome an alliance. As 
may well be conceived, these repeated instances of 
high-handed dealing sufficiently exasperated us. In 
this case, indeed, the men who joined us were all that 
could be desired; rude indeed in manner, but frank, 
manly, and intelligent. To tell them we could not 
travel with them was of course out of the question. 
I merely reminded Kearsley that if his oxen could not 
keep up with our mules he must expect to be left 
behind, as we could not consent to be further delayed 
on the journey; but he immediately replied, that his 
oxen '^should keep up; and if they couldn't, why he 
allowed^ that he'd find out how to make 'em !" Having 
availed myself of what satisfaction could be derived 
from giving R. to understand my opinion of his con- 
duct, I returned to our side of the camp. 

On the next day, as it chanced, our English com- 
panions broke the axletree of their wagon and down 



98 THE OREGON TRAIL 

came the whole cumbrous machine lumbering into 
the bed of a brook! Here was a day's work cut 
out for us. Meanwhile, our emigrant associates kept 
on their way, and so vigorously did they urge forward 
their powerful oxen that, with the broken axle-tree 
and other calamities, it was full a week before we 
overtook them; when at length we discovered them, 
one afternoon, crawling quietly along the sandy brink 
of the Platte. But meanwhile various incidents 
occurred to ourselves. 

It was probable that at this stage of our journey 
the Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began, 
therefore, to stand guard in turn, dividing the night 
into three watches, and appointing two men for each. 
Delorier and I held guard together. The reader need 
not imagine us marching with military precision to 
and fro before the tents; our discipline was by no means 
so stringent and rigid. We wrapped ourselves in our 
blankets, and sat down by the fire; and Delorier, 
combining his culinary functions with his duties as 
sentinel, employed himself in boiling the head of an 
antelope for our morning's repast. Yet we were 
models of vigilance in comparison with some of the 
party; for the ordinary practice of the guard was to 
establish himself in the most comfortable posture he 
could; lay his rifle on the ground, and enveloping his 
nose in the blanket, meditate on his mistress, or what- 
ever subject best pleased him. This is all well enough 
when among Indians who do not habitually proceed 
further in their hostility than robbing travelers of 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 99 

their horses and mules, though, indeed, a Pawnee's 
forbearance is not always to be trusted; but in certain 
regions farther to the west, the guard must beware 
how he exposes his person to the light of the fire, lest 
perchance some keen-eyed skulking marksman should 
let fly a bullet or an arrow from amid the darkness. 

Among various tales that circulated around our 
camp fire was a rather curious one, told by Boisverd, 
and not inappropriate here. Boisverd was trapping 
with several companions on the skirts of the Blackfoot^ 
country. The man on guard, well knowing that it 
behooved him to put forth his utmost precaution, 
kept aloof from the firelight, and sat watching intently 
on all sides. At length he was aware of a dark, 
crouching figure, stealing noiselessly into the circle of 
the light. He hastily cocked his rifle, but the sharp 
click of the lock caught the ear of the Blackfoot, whose 
senses were all on the alert. Raising his arrow, already 
fitted to the string, he shot in the direction of the 
sound. So sure was his aim that he drove it through 
the throat of the unfortunate guard, and then, with 
a loud yell, bounded from the camp. 

As I looked at the partner of m}^ watch, puffing and 
blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might 
not prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. 

"Delorier," said I, "would you run away if the 
Pawnees should fire at us?" 

"Ah! oui,oui, monsieur l"^ he replied very decisively . 

I did not doubt the fact, but was a little surprised 
at the frankness of the confession. 



100 THE OREGON TRAIL 

At this instant a most whimsical variety of voices — ■ 
barks, howls, yelps, and whines — all mingled as it 
were together, sounded from the prairie, not far off, 
as if a whole conclave of wolves of every age and sex 
were assembled there. Delorier looked up from his 
work with a laugh, and began to imitate this curious 
medley of sounds with a most ludicrous accuracy. At 
this they were repeated with redoubled emphasis, 
the musician being apparently indignant at the suc- 
cessful efforts of a rival. They all proceeded from 
the throat of one little wolf, not larger than a spaniel, 
seated by himself at some distance. He was of the 
species called the prairie wolf; a grim-visaged, but 
harmless little brute, whose worst propensity is creep- 
ing among horses and gnawing the ropes of rawhide 
by which they are picketed around the camp. But 
other beasts roam the prairies, far more formidable 
in aspect and in character. These are the large white 
and gray wolves, whose deep howl we heard at inter- 
vals from far and near. 

At last I fell into a doze, and, awakening from it, 
found Delorier fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach 
of discipline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by 
stirring him with the stock of my rifle; but compassion 
prevailing, I determined to let him sleep awhile, ancV 
then to arouse him, and administer a suitable reproof 
for such a forgetfulness of duty. Now and then I 
walked the rounds among the silent horses, to see that 
all was right. The night Avas chill, damp, and dark, 
the dank^ grass bending under the icy dewdrops. At 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 101 

the distance of a rod or two the tents were invisible, 
and nothing could be seen but the obscure figures of 
the horses, deeply breathing, and restlessly starting 
as they slept, or still slowly champing^ the grass. Far 
off, beyond the black outline of the prairie, there was 
a ruddy light, gradually increasing, like the glow of a 
conflagration; until at length the broad disk of the 
moon, blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, 
rose slowly upon the darkness, flecked by one or two 
little clouds, and as the light poured over the gloomy 
plain, a fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to 
greet it as an unwelcome intruder. There was some- 
thing impressive and a^\^ul in the place and the hour; 
for I and the beasts were all that had consciousness 
for many a league around. 

Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. 
Two men on horseback approached us one morning, 
and we watched them with the curiosity and interest 
that, upon the solitude of the plains, such an encounter 
always excites. They were evidently whites, from 
their mode of riding, though, contrary to the usage 
of that region, neither of them carried a rifle. 

"Fools!" remarked Henry Chatillon, "to ride that 
way on the prairie; Pawnee find them — then they 
catch it!" 

Pawnee had found them, and they had come very 
near "catching it";^ indeed, nothing saved them 
from trouble but the approach of our party. Shaw 
and I knew one of them; a man named Turner, whom 
we had seen at Westport. He and his companion 



102 THE OREGON TRAIL 

belonged to an emigrant party encamped a few miles 
in advance, and had returned to look for some stray 
oxen, leaving their rifles, with characteristic rashness 
or ignorance, behind them. Their neglect had nearly 
cost them dear; for just before we came up, half a 
dozen Indians approached, and seeing them apparently 
defenceless, one of the rascals seized the bridle of 
Turner's fine horse, and ordered him to dismount. 
Turner was wholly unarmed; but the other jerked a 
little revolving pistol out of his pocket, at which the 
Pawnee recoiled; and just then some of our men appear- 
ing in the distance, the whole party whipped their 
rugged little horses, and made off. In no way daunted, 
Turner foolishly persisted in going forward. 

Long after leaving him, and late this afternoon, in 
the midst of a gloomy and barren prairie, we came 
suddenly upon the great Pawnee trail, leading from 
their villages on the Platte to their war and hunting 
grounds to the southward. Here every summer pass 
the motley concourse; thousands of savages, men, 
women, and children, horses and mules, laden with 
their weapons and implements, and an innumerable 
multitude of unruly wolfish dogs, who have not 
acquired the civilized accomplishment of barking, 
but howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. 

The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand 
on the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the 
greater part of the inhabitants are wandering over the 
plains, a treacherous, cowardly banditti,^ who by a 
thousand acts of pillage and murder have deserved 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 103 

summary chastisement at the hands of govern- 
ment. Last year a Sioux^ warrior performed a signal 
exploit at one of these villages. He approached it 
alone in the middle of a dark night, and clambering 
up the outside of one of the lodges, which are in the 
form of a half sphere, he looked in at the round hole 
made at the top for the escape of smoke. The dusky 
light from the smoldering embers showed him the 
forms of the sleeping inmates; and dropping lightly 
through the opening, he unsheathed his knife, and, 
stirring the fire, coolly selected his victims. One by 
one he stabbed and scalped them, when a child sud- 
denly awoke and screamed. He rushed from the 
lodge, yelled a Sioux war-cry, shouted his name in 
triumph and defiance, and in a moment had darted 
out upon the dark prairie, leaving the whole village 
behind him in a tumult, with the howling and baying 
of dogs, the screams of women, and the yells of the 
enraged warriors. 

Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining 
him, signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. 
He and his men were good woodsmen, and well skilled 
in the use of the rifle, but found themselves w^holly 
out of their element on the prairie. None of them 
had ever seen a buffalo, and they had very vague 
conceptions of his nature and appearance. On the 
day after they reached the Platte, looking toward a 
distant swell, they beheld a multitude of little black 
specks in motion upon its surface. 

"Take your rifles, boys," said Kearsley, ''and we'll 



104 THE OREGON TRAIL 

have fresh meat for supper." This inducement was 
quite sufficient. The ten men left their wagons and 
set out in hot haste, some on horseback and some on 
foot, in pursuit of the supposed buffalo. Meanwhile 
a high grassy ridge shut the game from view; but 
mounting it after half an hour's running and riding, 
they found themselves suddenly confronted by about 
thirty mounted Pawnees! The amazement and con- 
sternation were mutual. Having nothing but their 
bows and arrows, the Indians thought their hour was 
come, and the fate that they were no doubt conscious 
of richly deserving about to overtake them. So 
they began, one and all, to shout forth the most 
cordial salutations of friendship, running up with 
extreme earnestness to shake hands with the Mis- 
sourians, who were as much rejoiced as they were to 
escape the expected conflict. 

A low undulating line of sand-hills bounded the 
horizon before us. That day we rode ten consecutive 
hours, and it was dusk before we entered the hollows 
and gorges of these gloomy little hills. At length we 
gained the summit, and the long expected valley of 
the Platte^ lay before us. We all drew rein, and, 
gathering in a knot on the crest of the hill, sat joyfully 
looking down upon the prospect. It was right wel- 
come; strange too, and striking to the imagination, 
and yet it had not one picturesque or beautiful 
feature; nor had it any of the features of grandeur, 
other than its vast extent, its solitude, and its wild- 
ness. For league after league a plain as level as a 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 105 

frozen lake was outspread beneath us; here and there 
the Platte, divided into a dozen thread-like sluices, 
was transversing it, and an occasional clump of wood, 
rising in the midst like a shadowy island, relieved the 
monotony of the waste. No living thing was moving 
throughout the vast landscape, except the lizards 
that darted over the sand and through the rank grass 
and prickly pear just at our feet. And yet stern 
and wild associations gave a singular interest to the 
view; for here each man lives by the strength of his 
arm and the valor of his heart. Here the feeble suc- 
cumb to the brave, with nothing to sustain them in 
their weakness. Here society is reduced to its 
original elements, and the whole fabric of art and con- 
ventionality is struck rudely to pieces, and men find 
themselves suddenly brought back to the wants and 
resources of their original natures. 

We had passed the more toilsome and monotonous 
part of the journey; but four hundred miles still 
intervened between us and Fort Laramie; and to 
reach that point cost us the travel of three additional 
weeks. During the whole of this time we were pass- 
ing up the center of a long, narrow, sandy plain, ^ 
reaching like an outstretched belt nearly to the 
Rocky Mountains. Two lines of sand-hills, broken 
often into the wildest and most fantastic forms, 
flanked the valley at the distance of a mile or two on 
the right and left; while beyond them lay a barren, 
trackless waste — ''the Great American Desert" — ex- 
tending for hundreds of miles to the Arknnsas on the 



106 THE OREGON TRAIL 

one side and the Missouri on the other. Before us and 
behind us, the level monotony of the plain was un- 
broken as far as the eye could reach. Sometimes 
it glared in the sun, an expanse of hot, bare sand; 
sometimes it was veiled by long, coarse grass. Huge 
skulls and whitening bones of buffalo were scattered 
everywhere; the ground was tracked by myriads of 
them, and often covered with the circular indentations 
where the bulls had wallowed in the hot weather. 
From every gorge and ravine, opening from the hills, 
descended deep, well-worn paths, where the buffalo 
issue twice a day in regular procession down to drink 
in the Platte. The river itself runs through the midst, 
a thin sheet of rapid, turbid water, half a mile wide, 
and scarce two feet deep. Its low banks, for the most 
part without a bush or a tree, are of loose sand, w^ith 
which the stream is so charged that it grates on the 
teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, of itself, 
dreary and monotonous enough; and yet the wild 
beasts and wild men that frequent the valley of the 
Platte make it a scene of interest and excitement to 
the traveler. Of those who have journeyed there, 
scarce one, perhaps, fails to look back with fond 
regret to his horse and his rifle. 

Fancy to yourself a long procession of squalid sav- 
ages approaching our camp. Each was on foot, 
leading his horse by a rope of bull-hide. His attire 
consisted merely of a scanty cincture^ and an old 
Imffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which 
hung over his shoulders. His head was close shaven, 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 107 

except a ridge of hair reaching over the crown from 
the center of the forehead, very much like the long 
bristles on the back of a hyena, and he carried his 
bow and arrows in his hand, while his meager little 
horse was laden with dried buffalo meat, the produce 
of his hunting. Such were the first specimens that 
we met — and very indifferent ones they were — of the 
genuine savages of the prairie. 

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encoun- 
tered the day before, and belonged to a large hunting 
party known to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. 
They strode rapidly past, within a furlong of our 
tents, not pausing or looking toward us, after the 
manner of Indians when meditating mischief or con- 
scious of ill desert. I went out and met them; and 
had an amicable conference with their chief, present- 
ing him with half a pound of tobacco, at which 
unmerited bounty he expressed much gratification. 
These fellows, or some of their companions, had com- 
mitted a dastardly outrage upon an emigrant party 
in advance of us. Two men, out on horseback at 
a distance, were seized by them, but lashing their 
horses, they broke loose and fled. At this the 
Pawnees raised the yell and shot at them, transfixing 
the hindermost through the back w^ith several arrows, 
while his companion galloped away and brought in 
the news to his party. The panic-stricken emigrants 
remained for several days in camp, not daring even 
to send out in quest of the dead body. 

The reader will recollect Turner, the man whose 



108 THE OREGON TRAIL 

narrow escape was mentioned not long since; and 
expect per hance a tragic conclusion to his adventures; 
but happily none such took place; for a dozen men, 
whom the entreaties of his wife induced to go in 
search of him, found him leisurely driving along his 
recovered oxen, and whistling in utter contempt of 
the Pawnee nation. His party was encamped within 
two miles of us; but we passed them that morning, 
while the men were driving in the oxen, and the 
women packing their domestic utensils and their 
numerous offspring in the spacious patriarchal 
wagons. As we looked back we saw their caravan 
dragging its slow length along the plain; wearily 
toiling on its way, to found new empires in the West. 
Our New England climate is mild and equable 
compared with that of the Platte. This very morn- 
ing, for instance, was close and sultry, the sun rising 
with a faint oppressive heat; when suddenly darkness 
gathered in the west, and a furious blast of sleet and 
hail drove full in our faces, icy cold, and urged with 
such demoniac vehemence that it felt like a storm 
of needles. It was curious to see the horses; they 
faced about in extreme displeasure, holding their 
tails like whipped dogs, and shivering as the angry 
gusts, howling louder than a concert of wolves, swept 
over us. Wright's long train of mules came sweeping 
round before the storm like a flight of brown snow- 
birds driven by a winter tempest. Thus we all 
remained stationary for some minutes, crouching 
close to our horses' necks, much too surly to speak, 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 109 

though once the Captain looked up from between the 
collars of his coat, his face blood-red, and the muscles 
of his mouth contracted by the cold into a most 
ludicrous grin of agony. He grumbled something 
that sounded like a curse, directed, as we believed, 
against the unhappy hour when he first thought of 
leaving home. The thing was too good to last long; 
and the instant the puffs of wind subsided we erected 
our tents, and remained in camp for the rest of a 
gloomy and lowering day. The emigrants also 
encamped near at hand. We, being first on the 
ground, had appropriated all the wood w^ithin reach; 
so that our fire alone blazed cheerily. Around it soon 
gathered a group of uncouth figures, shivering in the 
drizzling rain. Conspicuous among them were two 
or three of the half-savage men who spend their reck- 
less lives in trapping among the Rocky Mountains, 
or in trading for the Fur Company in the Indian 
villages. They were all of Canadian extraction; 
their hard, weather-beaten faces and bushy mustaches 
looked out from beneath the hoods of their white 
capotes with a bad and brutish expression, as if their 
owner might be the willing agent of any villainy. 
And such in fact is the character of many of these men. 
On the day following we overtook our emigrant 
companions, and thenceforward, for a w^eek or two, 
we were fellows-travelers. One good effect, at least, 
resulted from the alliance; it materially diminished 
the serious fatigue of standing guard; for the party 
being now more numerous, there were longer inter- 
vals between each man's turns of duty. 



CHAPTER Vn 

The Buffalo 

Twice twenty leagues 
Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp, 
Roams the majestic brute, in herds that shake 
The earth with thundering steps. 

Bryant. 

Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo! Last 
year's signs of them were provokingly abundant; and 
wood being extremely scarce, we found an admirable 
substitute in the bois de vache,^ which burns exactly 
like peat, producing no unpleasant effects. The 
wagons one morning had left the camp; Shaw and I 
were already on horseback, but Henry Chatillon still 
sat cross-legged by the dead embers of the fire, playing 
pensively with the lock of his rifle, while his sturdy 
Wyandot pony stood quietly behind him, looking 
over his head. At last he got up, patted the neck of 
the pony (whom, from an exaggerated appreciation 
of his merits, he had christened Five Hundred Dollar), 
and then mounted with a melancholy air. 

''What is it, Henry?" 

''Ah, I feel lonesome; I never been here before; but 
I see away yonder over the buttes,^ and down there 
on the prairie, black— all black with buffalo!" 

no 



THE BUFFALO 111 

In the afternoon he and I left the party in search 
of an antelope; until at the distance of a mile or two 
on the right, the tall white wagons^ and the little 
black specks of horsemen were just visible, so slowly 
advancing that they seemed motionless; and far on 
the left rose the broken line of scorched, desolate 
sand-hills. The vast plain waved with tall rank 
grass that swept our horses' bellies; it swayed to and 
fro in billows with the light breeze, and far and near 
antelope and wolves were moving through it, the hairy 
backs of the latter alternately appearing and disap- 
pearing as they bounded aw^kwardly along; w^hile 
the antelope, with the simple curiosity peculiar to 
them, would often approach us closely, their little 
horns and white throats just visible above the grass 
tops, as they gazed eagerly at us with their round 
black eyes. 

I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at 
the wolves. Henry attentively scrutinized the sur- 
rounding landscape; at length he gave a shout, and 
called on me to mount again, pointing in the direction 
of the sand-hills. A mile and a half from us, two 
minute black specks slowly traversed the face of one 
of the bare glaring declivities, and disappeared behind 
the summit. "Let us go!" cried Henry, belaboring 
the sides of Five Hundred Dollar; and I following in 
his wake, we galloped rapidly through the rank grass 
tow^ard the base of the hills. 

From one of their openings descended a deep 
ravine, widening as it issued on the prairie. We 



112 THE OREGON TRAIL 

entered it, and galloping up, in a moment were sur- 
rounded by the bleak desolate sand-hills. Half of 
their steep sides were bare; the rest were scantily 
clothed with clumps of grass, and various uncouth 
plants, conspicuous among which appeared the 
reptile-like prickly-pear.^ They were gashed with 
numberless ravines; and as the sky had suddenly 
darkened, and a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange 
shrubs and the dreary hills looked doubly wild and 
desolate. But Henry's face was all eagerness. He 
tore off a little hair from the piece of buffalo robe 
under his saddle, and threw it up, to show the course 
of the wind. It blew directly before us. The game 
were therefore to windward, and it was necessary to 
make our best speed to get round them. 

We scrambled from this ravine, and galloping away 
through the hollows, soon found another, winding like 
a snake among the hills, and so deep that it com- 
pletely concealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, 
glancing through the shrubbery at its edge, till Henry 
abruptly jerked his rein, and slid out of his saddle. 
Full a quarter of a mile distant, on the outline of the 
farthest hill, a long procession of buffalo were walking, 
in Indian file, with the utmost gravity and delibera- 
tion; then more appeared, clambering from a hollow 
not far off, and ascending, one behind the other, 
the grassy slope of another hill; then a shaggy head 
and a pair of short broken horns appeared issuing 
out of a ravine close at hand, and with a slow, stately 
step, one by one, the enormous brutes came into 



THE BUFFALO 113 

view, taking their way across the valley, wholly 
unconscious of an enemy. In a moment Henry was 
worming his way, lying flat on the ground, through 
grass and prickly-pears, toward his unsuspecting 
victims. He had with him both my rifle and his 
own. He was soon out of sight, and still the buffalo 
kept issuing into the valley. For a long time all was 
silent; I sat holding his horse, and wondering what 
he was about, when suddenly, in rapid succession, 
came the sharp reports of the two rifles, and the 
whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace into a 
clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge 
of the hill. Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking 
after them. 

" You have missed them," said I. 

''Yes," said Henry. ''Let us go." He descended 
into the ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his 
horse. 

We rode up the hill after the buffalo. The herd 
was out of sight when we reached the top, but lying 
on the grass not far off, was one quite lifeless, and 
another violently struggling in the death agony. . 

"You see I miss him!" remarked Henry. He had 
fired from a distance of more than a hifndred and 
fifty yards, and both balls had passed through the 
lungs — the true mark in shooting buffalo. 

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came 
on. Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, 
Henry began the bloody work of dissection, slashing 
away with the science of a connoisseur, while I vainly 



114 THE OREGON TRAIL 

endeavored to imitate him. Old Hendrick recoiled 
with horror and indignation when I endeavored to 
tie the meat to the strings of rawhide, always carried 
for this purpose, dangling at the back of the saddle. 
After some difficulty we overcame his scruples; and 
heavily burdened with the more eligible portions of 
the buffalo, we set out on our return. Scarcely had 
we emerged from the labyrinth of gorges and ravines, 
and issued upon the open prairie, when the pricking 
sleet came driving, gust upon gust, directly in our 
faces. It was strangely dark, though wanting still an 
hour of sunset. The freezing storm soon penetrated 
to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heavy-gaited 
horses kept us warm enough, as we forced them 
unwillingly in the teeth of the sleet and rain, by the 
powerful suasion of our Indian whips. The prairie in 
this place was hard and smooth. A flourishing colony 
of prairie-dogs had burrowed into it in every direction, 
and the little mounds of fresh earth around their holes 
were about as numerous as the hills in a cornfield; but 
not a yelp was to be heard; not the nose of a single 
citizen was visible; all had retired to the depths of 
their burrows, and we envied them their dry and 
comfortable habitations. An hour's hard riding 
showed us our tent dimly looming through the storm, 
one side puffed out by the force of the w^ind, and the 
other collapsed in proportion, while the disconsolate 
horses stood shivering close around, and the wind kept 
up a dismal whistling in the boughs of three old half- 
dead trees above. Shaw, like a patriarch, sat on his 



THE BUFFALO 115 

saddle in the entrance, with a pipe in his mouth, and 
his arms folded, contemplating, with cool satisfaction, 
the piles of meat that we flung on the ground before 
him. A dark and dreary night succeeded; but the 
sun rose with a heat so sultry and languid that the Cap- 
tain excused himself on that account from waylaying 
an old buffalo bull, who with stupid gravity was 
walking over the prairie to drink at the river. So 
much for the climate of the Platte! 

But it was not the weather alone that had produced 
this sudden abatement of the sportsman-like zeal 
which the Captain had always professed. He had been 
out on the afternoon before, together with several 
members of his party; but their hunting was attended 
with no other result than the loss of one of their best 
horses, severely injured by Lorel, in vainly chasing a 
wounded bull. The Captain, whose ideas of hard 
riding were all derived from transatlantic sources, 
expressed the utmost amazement at the feats of Lorel, 
who went leaping ravines, and dashing at full speed 
up and down the sides of precipitous hills, lashing his 
horse with the recklessness of a Rocky Mountain rider. 
Unfortunately for the poor animal, he was the property 
of R., against whom Lorel entertained an unbounded 
aversion. The Captain himself, it seemed, had also 
attempted to ^^run" a buffalo, but though a good and 
practised horseman, he had soon given over the 
attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted at 
the nature of the ground he was required to ride over. 

Nothing unusual occurred on that day; but on th^ 



116 THE OREGON TRAIL 

following morning Henry Chatillon, looking over the 
ocean-like expanse, saw near the foot of the distant 
hills something that looked like a band of buffalo. 
He was not sure, he said, but at all events, if they 
were buffalo, there was a fine chance for a race. Shaw 
and 1 at once determined to try the speed of our horses. 

"Come, Captain; we'll see which can ride harder, a 
Yankee or an Irishman.'^ 

But the Captain maintained a grave and austere 
countenance. He mounted his led horse, ^ however, 
though very slowly; and we set out at a trot. The 
game appeared about three miles distant. As we 
proceeded the Captain made various remarks of doubt 
and indecision; and at length declared he would have 
nothing to do with such a breakneck business; pro- 
testing that he had ridden plenty of steeplechases in 
his day, but he never knew what riding was till he 
found himself behind a band of buffalo day before 
yesterday. ''I am convinced,'* said the Captain, 
"that 'running' is out of the question. ^ Take my 
advice now and don't attempt it. It's dangerous, 
and of no use at all." 

"Then why did you come out with us? What do 
you mean to do?" 

"I shall 'approach,' " replied the Captain. 

" You don't mean to ' approach ' with your pistols, do 
you? We have all of us left our rifles in the wagons." 

The Captain seemed staggered at the suggestion. 
In his characteristic indecision, at setting out, pistols, 
rifles, "running," and "approaching" were mingled in 



THE BUFFALO 117 

an inextricable medley in his brain. He trotted on in 
silence between us for a while; but at length he 
dropped behind, and slowly walked his horse back to 
rejoin the party. Shaw and I kept on; when lo! as 
we advanced, the band of buffalo were transformed 
into certain clumps of tall bushes, dotting the prairie 
for a considerable distance. At this ludicrous termi- 
nation of our chase, we followed the example of our 
late ally, and turned back toward the party. We 
were skirting the brink of a deep ravine, when we saw 
Henry and the broad-chested pony coming toward 
lis at a gallop. 

'^Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort 
Laramie!" shouted Henry, long before he came up. 
We had for some days expected this encounter. Papin 
was the bourgeois of Fort Laramie. He had come 
down the river with the buffalo robes and the beaver, 
the produce of the last winter's trading. I had among 
our baggage a letter which I wished to commit to their 
hands; so requesting Henry to detain the boats if he 
could until my return, I set out after the wagons. 
They were about four miles in advance. In half an 
hour I overtook them, got the letter, trotted back upon 
the trail, and looking carefully, as I rode, saw a patch 
of broken, storm-blasted trees, and moving near them 
some little black specks like men and horses. Arriving 
at the place, I found a strange assembly. The boats, 
eleven in number, deep-laden with the skins, hugged 
close to the shore, to escape being borne down by the 
swift current. The rowers, swarthy ignoble Mexicans, 



118 THE OREGON TRAIL 

turned their brutish faces upward to look, as I reached 
the bank. Papin sat in the middle of one of the boats 
upon the canvas covering that protected the robes. 
He was a stout, robust fellow, with a little gray eye, 
that had a peculiarly sly and selfish twinkle. "Fred- 
eric" also stretched his tall rawboned proportions 
close by the bourgeois, and "mountain-men'* com- 
pleted the group; some lounging in the boats, some 
strolling on shore; some attired in gayly painted 
buffalo robes, like Indian dandies; some with hair 
saturated with red paint, and beplastered with glue 
to their temples; and one bedaubed with vermilion 
upon his forehead and each cheek. They were a mon- 
grel race;^ yet the French blood seemed to predominate; 
in a few, indeed, might be seen the black snaky eye 
of the Indian half-breed, and one and all, they seemed 
to aim at assimilating themselves to their savage 
associates. 

I shook hands with the bourgeois, and delivered the 
letter; then the boats swung round into the stream 
and floated away. They had reason for haste, for 
already the voyage from Fort Laramie had occupied 
a full month, and the river was growing daily more 
shallow. Fifty times a day the boats had been aground ; 
indeed, those who navigate the Platte invariably 
spend half their time upon sand-bars. Two of these 
boats, the property of private traders, afterward 
separating from the rest, got hopelessly involved in 
the shallows, not very far from the Pawnee villages, 
and were soon surrounded by a swarm of the inhabi- 



THE BUFFALO 119 

tants. They carried off everything that they con- 
sidered valuable, including most of the robes; and 
amused themselves by tying up the men left on guard, 
and soundly whipping them with sticks! 

We encamped that night upon the bank of the 
river. Among the emigrants there was an overgrown 
boy, some eighteen years old, with a head as round 
and about as large as a pumpkin, and fever-and-ague 
fits had dyed his face a corresponding color. He wore 
an old white hat, tied under his chin with a handker- 
chief; his body was short and stout, but his legs of 
disproportioned and appalling length. I observed 
him at sunset, breasting the hill with gigantic strides, 
and standing against the sky on the summit, like a 
colossal pair of tongs. In a moment after, we heard 
him screaming frantically behind the ridge, and noth- 
ing doubting that he was in the clutches of Indians or 
grizzly bears, some of the party caught up their rifles 
and ran to the rescue. His outcries, however, proved 
but an ebullition^ of joyous excitement; he had chased 
two little wolf pups to their burrow, and he was on his 
knees, grubbing away like a dog at the mouth of the 
hole, to get at them. 

Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in 
the camp. It was his turn to hold the middle guard; 
but no sooner was he called up, than he coolly arranged 
a pair of saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon 
them, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell 
asleep. The guard on our side of the camp, thinking 
it no part of his duty to look after the cattle of the 



120 THE OREGON TRAIL 

emigrants, contented himself with watching our own 
horses and mules; the wolves, he said, were unusually 
noisy; but still no mischief was anticipated until the 
sun rose, and not a hoof or horn was in sight! The 
cattle were gone! While Tom was quietly slumbering, 
the wolves had driven them away. 

Then, R., we reaped the fruits of your precious plan 
of traveling in company with emigrants. To leave 
them in their distress was not to be thought of, and 
we felt bound to wait until the cattle could be searched 
for, and, if possible, recovered. But the reader may 
be curious to know what punishment awaited the 
faithless Tom. By the wholesome law of the prairie, 
he who falls asleep on guard is condemned to walk 
all day, leading his horse by the bridle, and we found 
much fault with our companions for not enforcing 
such a sentence on the offender. Nevertheless, had 
he been of our own party, I have no doubt he would 
in like manner have escaped scot-free. But the emi- 
grants went farther than mere forbearance: they 
decreed that since Tom couldn't stand guard without 
falling asleep, he shouldn't stand guard at all, and 
henceforward his slumbers were unbroken. Estab- 
lishing such a premium on drowsiness could have no 
very beneficial effect upon the vigilance of our sentinel; 
for it is far from agreeable, after riding from sunrise 
to sunset, to feel your slumbers interrupted by the 
butt of a rifle nudging your side, and a sleepy voice 
growling in your ear that you must get up, to shiver 
and freeze for three weary hours at midnight. 



THE BUFFALO 121 

''Buffalo! buffalo!" It was but a grim old bull, 
roaming the prairie by himself in misanthropic 
seclusion; but there might be more behind the hills. 
Dreading the monotony and languor of the camp, 
Shaw and I saddled our horses, buckled our holsters 
in their places, and set out with Henry Chatillon in 
search of the game. Henry, not intending to take 
part in the chase, but merely conducting us, carried 
his rifle with him, while we left ours behind as incum- 
brances. We rode for some five or six miles, and saw 
no living thing but wolves, snakes, and prairie-dogs. 

''This won't do at all," said Shaw. 

"What won't do?" 

"There's no wood about here to make a litter for 
the wounded man; I have an idea that one of us will 
need something of the sort before the day is over." 

There was some foundation for such an apprehen- 
sion, for the ground was none of the best for a race, 
and grew worse continually as we proceeded; indeed 
it soon became desperately bad, consisting of abrupt 
hills and deep hollows, cut by frequent ravines not 
easy to pass. At length, a mile in advance, we saw 
a band of bulls. Some were scattered grazing over 
a green declivity, w^hile the rest were crowded more 
densely together in the wide hollow below. Making 
a circuit to keep out of sight, we rode toward them 
until we ascended a hill within a furlong of them, 
beyond which nothing intervened that could possibly 
screen us from their view. We dismounted behind 
the ridge just out of sight, drew our saddle-girths, 



122 THE OREGON TRAIL 

examined our pistols, and mounting again rode over 
the hill, and descended at a canter toward them, 
bending close to our horses' necks. Instantly they 
took the alarm; those on the hill descended; those 
below gathered into a mass, and the whole got in 
motion, shouldering each other along at a clumsy 
gallop. We followed, spurring our horses to full speed; 
and as the herd rushed, crowding and tramping in 
terror through an opening in the hills, we were close 
at their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust. 
But as we drew near, their alarm and speed increased; 
our horses showed signs of the utmost fear, bounding 
violently aside as we approached, and refusing to 
enter among the herd. The buffalo now broke into 
several small bodies, scampering over the hills in 
different directions, and I lost sight of Shaw: neither 
of us knew where the other had gone, for we were 
drunk with the chase. Old Pontiac ran like a frantic 
elephant up hill and down hill, his ponderous hoofs 
striking the prairie like sledge-hammers. He showed 
a curious mixture of eagerness and terror, straining 
to overtake the panic-stricken herd, but constantly 
recoiling in dismay as we drew near. The fugitives, 
indeed, offered no very attractive spectacle, with 
their enormous size and weight, their shaggy manes 
and tattered remnants of their last winter's hair cover- 
ing their backs in irregular shreds and patches, and 
flying off in the wind as they ran. At length I urged 
my horse close behind a bull, and after trying in vain, 
by blows and spurring, to bring him alongside, I shot 



THE BUFFALO 123 

a bullet into the buffalo from this disadvantageous 
position. At the report, Pontiac swerved so much 
that I was again thrown a little behind the game. 
The bullet, entering too much in the rear, failed to 
disable the bull, for a buffalo requires to be shot at 
particular points, or he will certainly escape. The 
herd ran up a hill, and I followed in pursuit. As 
Pontiac rushed headlong down on the other side, I 
saw Shaw and Henry descending the hollow on the 
right, at a leisurely gallop; and in front, the buffalo 
were just disappearing behind the crest of the next 
hill, their short tails erect, and their hoofs twinkling 
through a cloud of dust. One old bull seemed hanging 
behind the rest, struggling vainly to keep up with 
his comrades. As my horse ran past him, within 
about twelve yards, I fired my remaining pistol by a 
thoughtless impulse, striking him in the rump too 
high for mortal effect. 

But to glance back at my friend and his exploits. 
Being a bold and excellent rider, he had succeeded, 
after much difficulty, in forcing his active little horse 
within a reasonable distance of a buffalo, and firing 
again and again, he at length disabled him; for our 
pistols, unless aimed with extreme precision, were of 
too small calibre to kill at a single shot. This was 
the old bull at whom I fired, ignorant that he was 
already in extremity. 

At that moment, I heard Shaw and Henry shouting 
to me; but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine 
could not have checked at once the furious course of 



124 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Pontiac, whose mouth was as insensible as leather. 
Added to this, I rode him that morning with a common 
snaffle/ having the day before, for the benefit of my 
other horse, unbuckled from my bridle the curb which 
I ordinarily used. A stronger and hardier brute 
never trod the prairie; but the novel sight of the 
buffalo filled him with terror, and when at full speed 
he was almost uncontrollable. Gaining the top of the 
ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo; they had all 
vanished amid the intricacies of the hills and hollows. 
Reloading my pistols, in the best way I could, I 
galloped on until I saw them again scuttling along at 
the base of the hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down 
went old Pontiac among them, scattering them to 
the right and left, and then we had another long chase. 
About a dozen bulls were before us, scouring over 
the hills, rushing down the declivities with tremendous 
weight and impetuosity, and then laboring w^ith a 
weary gallop upward. Still Pontiac, in spite of spur- 
ring and beating, would not close with them. One 
bull at length fell a little behind the rest, and by dint 
of much effort, I urged my horse within six or eight 
yards of his side. His back was darkened with sweat; 
he was panting heavily, while his tongue lolled out a 
foot from his jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of 
him, urging Pontiac with leg and rein nearer to 
his side, when suddenly he did what buffalo in 
such circumstances will always do; he slackened 
his gallop, and turning toward us, with an aspect 
of mingled rage and distress, lowered his huge 



THE BUFFALO 125 

shaggy head for a charge. Pontiac, with a snort, 
leaped aside in terror, nearly throwing me 
to the ground, as I was wholly unprepared 
for such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a passion 
to strike him on the head, but thinking better of it, 
fired the bullet after the bull, who had resumed his 
flight; then drew rein, and determined to rejoin my 
companions. It was high time. The breath blew 
hard from Pontiac's nostrils, and the sweat rolled in 
big drops down his sides; I myself felt as if drenched 
in warm water. Pledging myself (and I redeemed the 
pledge) to take my revenge at a future opportunity, 
I looked around for some indications to show me 
where I was, and what course I ought to pursue; I 
might as well have looked for landmarks in the midst 
of the ocean. How many miles I had run or in what 
direction, I had no idea; and around me the prairie 
was rolling in steep swells and pitches, without a 
single distinctive feature to guide me. I had a little 
compass hung at my neck; and ignorant that the 
Platte at this point diverged considerably from its 
easterly course, I thought that by keeping to the 
northward I should certainly reach it. So I turned 
and rode about two hours in that direction. The 
prairie changed as I advanced, softening away into 
easier undulations, but nothing like the Platte appeared, 
nor any sign of a human being; the same wild endless 
expanse lay around me still; and to all appearance I 
was as far from my object as ever. I began now to 
consider myself in danger of being lost; and therefore, 



126 THE OREGON TRAIL 

reining in my horse, summoned the scanty share of 
woodcraft that I possessed (if that term be applicable 
upon the prairie) to extricate me. Looking round, it 
occurred to me that the buffalo might prove my best 
guides. I soon found one of the paths made by them 
in their passage to the river; it ran nearly at right 
angles to my course; but turning my horse's head in 
the direction it indicated, his freer gait and erected 
ears assured me that I was right. 

But in the meantime my ride had been by no 
means a solitary one. The whole face of the country 
was dotted far and wide with countless hundreds of 
buffalo. They trooped along in files and columns, 
bulls, cows, and calves, on the green faces of the 
declivities in front. They scrambled away over the 
hills to the right and left; and far off, the pale blue 
swells in the extreme distance were dotted with innum- 
erable little black specks. Sometimes I surprised 
shaggy old bulls grazing alone, or sleeping behind the 
ridges I ascended. They would leap up at my 
approach, stare stupidly at me through their tangled 
manes, and then gallop heavily away. The antelope 
were very numerous; and as they are always bold 
when in the neighborhood of buffalo, they w^ould 
approach quite near to look at me, gazing intently 
with their great round eyes, then suddenly leap aside, 
and stretch lightly away over the prairie, as swiftly 
as a race-horse. Squalid, ruffian-like wolves sneaked 
through the hollows and sandy ravines. Several 
times I parsed through villages of prairie-dogs^ who 



THE BUFFALO 127 

sat, each at the mouth of his burrow, holding his 
paws before him in a supplicating attitude, and 
yelping away most vehemently, energetically whisk- 
ing his little tail with every squeaking cry he uttered. 
Prairie-dogs are not fastidious in their choice of com- 
panions; various long, checkered snakes were sun- 
ning themselves in the midst of the village, and 
demure little gray owls, with a large white ring 
around each eye, were perched side by side with the 
rightful inhabitants. The prairie teemed with life. 
Again and again I looked toward the crowded hill- 
sides, and was sure I saw horsemen; and riding near, 
with a mixture of hope and dread, for Indians were 
abroad, I found them transformed into a group of 
buffalo. There was nothing in human shape amid 
all this vast congregation of brute forms. 

When I turned down the buffalo path, the prairie 
seemed changed; only a wolf or two glided past at 
intervals, like conscious felons, never looking to the 
right or left. Being now free from anxiety, I was at 
leisure to observe minutely the objects around me; 
and here, for the first time, I noticed insects wholly 
different from any of the varieties found farther to 
the eastward. Gaudy butterflies fluttered about 
my horse's head; strangely formed beetles, glittering 
with metallic luster, were crawling upon plants that 
I had never seen before; multitudes of lizards, too, 
were darting like lightnmg over the sand. 

I had run to a great distance from the river. It 
cost me a long ride on the buffalo path before I saw 



128 THE OREGON TRAIL 

from the ridge of a sand-hill the pale surface of the 
Platte glistening in the midst of its desert valleys, 
and the faint outline of the hills beyond waving along 
the sky. From where I stood, not a tree nor a bush 
nor a living thing was visible throughout the whole 
extent of the sun-scorched landscape. In half an 
hour I came upon the trail, not far from the river; 
and seeing that the party had not yet passed, I turned 
eastward to meet them, old Pontiac's long swinging 
trot again assuring me that I was right in doing so. 
I was slightly ill on leaving camp in the morning, and 
six or seven hours of rough riding had fatigued me 
extremely. I soon stopped, therefore; flung my 
saddle on the ground, and with my head resting on 
it, and my horse's trail-rope tied loosely to my arm, 
lay waiting the arrival of the party, speculating 
meanwhile on the extent of the injuries Pontiac had 
received. At length the white wagon coverings rose 
from the verge of the plain. By a singular coinci- 
dence, almost at the same moment two horsemen 
appeared coming down from the hills. They were 
Shaw and Henry, who had searched for me awhile in 
the morning, but well knowing the futility of the 
attempt in such a broken country, had placed them- 
selves on the top of the highest hill they could find, 
and picketing their horses near them, as a signal to 
me, had lain down and fallen asleep. The stray 
cattle had been recovered, as the emigrants told us, 
about noon. Before sunset, we pushed forward 
eight miles farther. 



1 



THE BUFFALO 129 

Camp, June 7. — Four men are missing; R., Lorel, and two 
emigrants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and have 
not yet made their appearance; whether killed or lost, we can- 
not tell. 

I find the above in my notebook, and well remember 
the council held on the occasion. Our fire was the 
scene of it; for the palpable superiority of Henry 
Chatillon's experience and skill made him the resort 
of the whole camp upon every question of difficulty. 
He was molding bullets at the fire, when the Captain 
draw near, with a perturbed and care-worn expression 
of countenance, faithfully reflected on the heavy 
features of Jack, who followed close behind. Then 
emigrants came straggling from their wagons toward 
the common center; various suggestions were made 
to account for the absence of the four men, and one 
or two of the emigrants declared that when out after 
cattle they had seen Indians dogging them, and 
crawling like wolves along the ridges of the hills. At 
this the Captain slowiy shook his head with double 
gravity, and solemnly remarked: 

''It's a serious thing to be traveling through this 
cursed wilderness"; an opinion in which Jack immedi- 
ately expressed a thorough coincidence. Henry 
would not commit himself by declaring any positive 
opinion. 

"Maybe he only follow the buffalo too far; maybe 
Indian kill him; maybe he got lost; I cannot tell!" 

With this the auditors were obliged to rest content; 
the emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though 



130 THE OREGON TRAIL 

curious to know what had become of their comrades, 
walked back to their wagons, and the Captain betook 
himself pensively to his tent. Shaw and I followed 
his example. 

^'It will be a bad thing for our plans," said he as 
we entered, '^if these fellows don't get back safe. 
The Captain is as helpless on the prairie as a child. 
We shall have to take him and his brother in tow; 
they will hang on us like lead." 

^^The prairie is a strange place," said I. ''A 
month ago I should have thought it rather a startling 
affair to have an acquaintance ride out in the morning 
and lose his scalp before night, but here it seems the 
most natural thing in the world; not that I believe 
that R. has lost his yet." 

If a man is constitutionally liable to nervous appre- 
hensions, a tour on the distant prairies would prove 
the best prescription; for though when in the neigh- 
borhood of the Rocky Mountains he may at times 
find himself placed in circumstances of some danger, 
I believe that few ever breathe that reckless atmos- 
phere without becoming almost indifferent to any 
evil chance that may befall themselves or their 
friends. 

Shaw had a propensity for luxurious indulgence. 
He spread his blanket with the utmost accuracy on 
the ground, picked up the sticks and stones that he 
thought might interfere with his comfort, adjusted 
his saddle to serve as a pillow, and composed himself 
for his night's rest. I had the first guard that even- 



THE BUFFALO 131 

ing; so, taking my rifle, I went out of the tent. It 
was perfectly dark. A brisk wind blew down from 
the hills, and the sparks from the fire were streaming 
over the prairie. One of the emigrants, named 
Morton, was my companion; and laying our rifles on 
the grass, we sat down together by the fire. Morton 
was a Kentuckian, an athletic fellow, with a fine 
intelligent face, and in his manners and conversation 
he showed more of the essential characteristics of a 
gentleman than the vulgar and ignorant boors who 
float on the scum of fashion in some of our Eastern 
cities. Our conversation turned on the pioneers^ of 
his gallant native state. The three hours of our 
watch dragged away at last, and we went to call up 
the relief. 

R. 's guard succeeded mine. He was absent; but 
the Captain, anxious lest the camp should be left 
defenseless, had volunteered to stand in his place; 
so I went to wake him up. There was no occasion 
for it, for the Captain had been awake since nightfal . 
A fire was blazing outside of the tent, and by the 
light which struck through the canvas, I saw him 
and Jack lying on their backs, with their eyes wide 
open. The Captain responded instantly to my call; 
he jumped up, seized the double-barreled rifle, and 
came out of the tent with an air of solemn determina- 
tion, as if about to devote himself to the safety of the 
party. I went and lay down, not doubting that for 
the next three hours our slumbers would be guarded 
with sufficient vigilance. 



CHAPTER VIII 

Taking French Leave 

Dem. Prythee, friend, why wilt thou leave us? 

Ale. Why, if thou must needs have it, I like not thy company. 

On the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, we 
reached the South Fork of the Platte, at the usual 
fording-place. For league upon league the desert 
uniformity of the prospect was almost unbroken; the 
hills were clotted with little tufts of shriveled grass, 
but betwixt these the white sand Avas glaring in the 
sun; and the channel of the river, almost on a level 
with the plain, was but one great sand-bed, about 
half a mile wide. It was covered with water, but 
so scantily that the bottom was scarcely hidden; for, 
wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte does not 
at this point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping 
near its bank, we gathered hois de vache, and made a 
meal of buffalo meat. Far off, on the other side, 
was a green meadow, where we could see the white 
tents and wagons of an emigrant camp; and just 
opposite to us we could discern a group of men and 
animals at the water's edge. Four or five horsemen 
soon entered the river, and in ten minutes had waded 
a-cross and clambered up the loose sand-bank. They 

132 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 133 

were ill-looking fellows, thin and swarthy, with care- 
worn, anxious faces and lips rigidly compressed. 
They had good cause for anxiety; it was three days 
since they first encamped here, and on the night of 
their arrival they had lost one hundred and twenty- 
three of their best cattle, driven off by the wolves, 
through the neglect of the man on guard. This 
discouraging and alarming calamity was not the first 
that had overtaken them. Since leaving the settle- 
ments, they had met with nothing but misfortune. 
Some of their party had died; one man had been 
killed by the Pawnees; and about a week before, they 
had been plundered by the Sioux of all their best 
horses, the wretched animals on which our visitors 
were mounted being the only ones that were left. 
They had encamped, they told us, near sunset, by 
the side of the Platte, and their oxen were scattered 
over the meadow, while the band of horses were feed- 
ing a little farther off. Suddenly the ridges of the 
hills were alive with a swarm of mounted Indians, at 
least six hundred in number, who, with a tremendous 
yell, came pouring down toward the camp, rushing up 
within a few rods, to the great terror of the emigrants; 
but suddenly wheeling, they swept around the band 
of horses, and in five minutes had disappeared with 
their prey through the openings of the hills. 

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw 
four other men approaching. They proved to be R. 
and his companions, who had encountered no mis- 
chance of any kind, but had only wandered too far 



134 THE OREGON TRAIL 

in pursuit of the game. They said they had seen no 
Indians, but only ^'millions of buffalo"; and both R. 
and Lorel had meat dangling behind their saddles. 

The emigrants recrossed the river, and we prepared 
to follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down 
the bank, and dragged slowly over the sand-beds; 
sometimes the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely wetted 
by the thin sheet of water; and the next moment the 
river would be boiling against their sides, and eddying 
fiercely around the wheels. Inch by inch they receded 
from the shore, dwindling every moment, until at 
length they seemed to be floating far out in the very 
middle of the river. A more critical experiment 
awaited us; for our little mule-cart was but ill-fitted 
for the passage of so swift a stream. We watched 
it with anxiety till it seemed to be a little motionless 
white speck in the midst of the waters; and it was 
motionless, for it had stuck fast in a quicksand. The 
little mules were losing their footing, the wheels were 
sinking deeper and deeper, and the water began to 
rise through the bottom and drench the goods within. 
All of us who had remained on the hither bank gal- 
loped to the rescue; the men jumped into the water, 
adding their strength to that of the mules, until by 
much effort the cart was extricated, and conveyed in 
safety across. 

As we gained the other bank, a rough group of 
men surrounded us. They were not robust, nor 
large of frame, yet they had an aspect of hardy 
endurance. Finding at home no scope for their fiery 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 135 

energies, they had betaken themselves to the prairie; 
and in them seemed to be revived, with redoubled 
force, that fierce spirit which impelled their ancestors, 
scarce more lawless than themselves, from the Ger- 
man forests,^ to inundate Europe and break to pieces 
the Roman empire. A fortnight afterward this 
unfortunate party passed Fort Laramie, while we 
were there. Not one of their missing oxen had been 
recovered, though they had remained encamped a 
week in search of them; and they had been compelled 
to abandon a great part of their baggage and provi- 
sions, and yoke cows and heifers to their wagons to 
carry them forward upon their journey, the most 
toilsome and hazardous part of which lay still before 
them. 

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may 
sometimes see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw- 
footed tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive 
bureaus of carved oak. These, many of them no 
doubt the relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial 
time, must have encountered strange vicissitudes. 
Imported, perhaps, originally from England; then, 
with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne across 
the Alleghanies to the remote wilderness of Ohio or 
Kentucky; then to Illinois or Missouri; and now at 
last fondly stowed away in the family wagon for the 
interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern 
privations of the way were little anticipated. The 
cherished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack 
upon the hot prairie. 



136 THE OREGON TRAIL 

We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely 
a mile, when R. called out from the rear: 

^'We'll camp here." 

'^ Why do you want to camp? Look at the sun. It 
is not three o'clock yet." 

"We'll camp here!" 

This was the only reply vouchsafed. Delorier 
was in advance with his cart. Seeing the mule- 
wagon wheeling from the track, he began to turn his 
own team in the same direction. 

"Go on, Delorier," and the little cart advanced 
again. As we rode on, we soon heard the wagon of 
our confederates creaking and jolting on behind us, 
and the driver, Wright, discharging a furious volley 
of oaths against his mules; no doubt venting upon 
them the wrath which he dared not direct against a 
more appropriate object. 

Something of this sort had frequently occurred. 
Our English friend was by no means partial to us, 
and we thought we discovered in his conduct a deliber- 
ate intention to thwart and annoy us, especially by 
retarding the movements of the party, which he 
knew that we, being Yankees, were anxious to 
quicken. Therefore he would insist on encamping 
at all unseasonable hours, saying that fifteen miles 
was a sufficient day's journey. Finding our wishes 
systematically disregarded, we took the direction of 
affairs into our own hands. Keeping always in 
advance, to the inexpressible indignation of R., we 
encamped at what time and place we thought proper, 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 137 

not much caring whether the rest chose to follow or 
not. They always did so, however, pitching their 
tents near ours, with sullen and wrathful counte- 
nances. 

Traveling together on these agreeable terms did 
not suit our tastes; for some time we had meditated 
a separation. The connection with them had cost 
us various delays and inconveniences; and the glaring 
want of courtesy and good sense displayed by their 
virtual leader did not dispose us to bear these annoy- 
ances with much patience. We resolved to leave camp 
early in the morning, and push forward as rapidly as 
possible for Fort Laramie, which we hoped to reach, 
by hard traveling, in four or five days. The Captain 
soon trotted up between us, and we explained our 
intentions. 

"A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my 
word!'' he remarked. Then he began to enlarge 
upon the enormity of the design. The most promi- 
nent impression in his mind evidently was that we 
were acting a base and treacherous part in deserting 
his party, in what he considered a very dangerous 
stage of the journey. To palliate the atrocity of 
our conduct, we ventured to suggest that we were 
only four in number while his party still included 
sixteen men; and as, moreover, we were to go forward 
and they were to follow, at least a full proportion of 
the perils he apprehended would fall upon us. But 
the austerity of the Captain's features would not 
relax. "A very extraordinary proceeding, gentle- 



138 THE OREGON TRAIL 

men!" and repeating this, he rode off to confer with 
his principal. 

By good luck, we found a meadow of fresh grass, 
and a large pool of rain-water in the midst of it. We 
encamped here at sunset. Plenty of buffalo skulls 
were lying around, bleaching in the sun; and sprinkled 
thickly among the grass was a great variety of strange 
flowers wholly unknown farther toward the east. 
I had nothing else to do, and so gathered a handful, 
I sat down on a buffalo skull to study them. Although 
the offspring of a wilderness, their texture was frail 
and delicate, and their colors extremely rich; pure 
white, dark blue, and a transparent crimson. One 
traveling in this country seldom has leisure to think 
of anything but the stern features of the scenery and 
its accompaniments, or the practical details of each 
day's journey. Like them, he and his thoughts 
grow hard and rough. But now these flowers sud- 
denly awakened a train of associations as alien to 
the rude scene around me as they were themselves; 
and for the moment my thoughts went back to New 
England. A throng of fair and well-remembered 
faces rose, vividly as life, before me. ''There are 
good things," thought I, "in the savage life, but 
what can it offer to replace those powerful and 
ennobling influences that can reach unimpaired over 
more than three thousand miles of mountains, forests, 
and deserts?" 

Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was 
down; we harnessed our best horses to the cart and 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 139 

left the camp. But first we shook hands with our 
friends the emigrants, who sincerely wished us a safe 
journey, though some others of the party might 
easily have been consoled had we encountered an 
Indian war party on the way. The Captain and his 
brother w^ere standing on the top of a hill, wrapped 
in their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping an 
anxious eye on the band of horses below. We waved 
adieu to them as we rode off the ground. The Cap- 
tain replied with a salutation of the utmost dignity, 
which Jack tried to imitate; but being little practised 
in the gestures of polite society, his effort was not a 
very successful one. 

In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, 
but here we came to a stop. Old Hendrick was in 
the shafts, and being the very incarnation of per- 
verse and brutish obstinacy, he utterly refused to 
move. Delorier lashed and swore till he was tired, 
but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling to him- 
self and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw a 
favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when he 
struck out under the shaft with such cool malignity 
of intention that Delorier only escaped the blow by 
a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but a 
Frenchman could achieve. Shaw and he then joined 
forces, and lashed on both sides at once. The brute 
stood still for a while till he could bear it no longer, 
when all at once he began to kick and plunge till he 
threatened the utter demolition of the cart and har- 
ness. We glanced back at the camp, which was in 



140 THE OREGON TRAIL 

full sight. Our companions, inspired by emulation^ 
were leveling their tents and driving in their cattle 
and horses. 

"• Take the horse out/' said I. 

I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon 
Hendrick; the former was harnessed to the cart in an 
instant, " Avance done/" cried Delorier. Pontiac 
strode up the hill, twitching the little cart after him 
as if it were a feather's weight; and though, as we 
gained the top, we saw the wagons of our deserted 
comrades just getting into motion, we had little fear 
that they could overtake us. Leaving the trail, we 
struck directly across the country, and took the 
shortest cut to reach the main stream of the Platte. 
A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We skirted 
its sides until we found them less abrupt, and then 
plunged through the best way we could. Passing 
behind the sandy ravines called Ash Hollow, we 
stopped for a short nooning at the side of a pool of 
rain-water; but soon resumed our journey, and some 
hours before sunset were descending the ravines and 
gorges opening downward upon the Platte to the west 
of Ash Hollow. Our horses waded to the fetlock in 
sand; the sun scorched like fire, and the air swarmed 
with sand-flies and mosquitoes. 

At last we gained the Platte. Following it for 
about five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, 
a great meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, 
and beyond them an emigrant encampment. A 
party of about a dozen came out to meet us, looking 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 141 

upon us at first with cold and suspicious faces. See- 
ing four men, different in appearance and equipment 
from themselves, emerging from the hills, they had 
taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, 
whom they were very apprehensive of encountering. 
We made known our true character, and then they 
greeted us cordially. They expressed much sur- 
prise that so small a party should venture to traverse 
that region, though in fact such attempts are not 
unfrequently made by trappers and Indian traders. 
We rode with them to their camp. The wagons, 
some fifty in number, with here and there a tent inter- 
vening, were arranged as usual in a circle; in the area 
within the best horses were picketed, and the whole 
circumference was giow^ing with the dusky light of the 
fires, displaying the forms of the women and children 
who were crowded around them. This patriarchal 
scene was curious and striking enough; but we made 
our escape from the place with all possible dispatch, 
being tormented by the intrusive curiosity of the men 
who crowded around us. Yankee curiosity was 
nothing to theirs. They demanded our names, 
where we came from, where we were going, and what 
was our business. The last query was particularly 
embarrassing; since traveling in that country, or 
indeed anywhere, from any other motive than gain, 
was an idea of which they took no cognizance.^ 
Yet they were fine-looking fellows, with an air of 
frankness, generosity, and even courtesy, having come 
from one of the least barbarous of the frontier counties. 



142 THE OREGON TRAIL 

We passed about a mile beyond them, and en- 
camped. Being too few in number to stand guard 
without excessive fatigue, we extinguished our fire, 
lest it should attract the notice of wandering Indians; 
and picketing our horses close around us, slept un- 
disturbed until morning. For three days we traveled 
w^ithout interruption, and on the evening of the third 
encamped by the well-known spring on Scott's Bluff. ^ 

Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, 
and descending the western side of the Bluff, were 
crossing the plain beyond. Something that seemed 
to me a file of buffalo came into view, descending the 
hills several miles before us. But Henry reined in 
his horse, and keenly peering across the prairie with 
a better and more practised eye, soon discovered its 
real nature. ^^ Indians!" he said. ''Old Smoke's 
lodges, I b'lieve. Come! let us go! AVah! get up, 
now, Five Hundred Dollar!'' And laying on the 
lash with good will, he galloped forward, and I rode 
by his side. Not long after, a black speck became 
visible on the prairie, full two miles off. It grew 
larger and larger; it assumed the form of a man and 
horse; and soon we could discern a naked Indian, 
careering at full gallop toward us. When within 
a furlong he wheeled his horse in a wide circle, and 
made him describe various mystic figures upon the 
prairie; and Henry immediately compelled Five 
Hundred Dollar to execute similar evolutions. ''It 
is Old Smoke's village," said he, interpreting these 
signals; "didn't I say so?" 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 143 

As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for 
him, when suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, 
into the earth. * He had come upon one of the deep 
ravines that everywhere intersect these prairies. 
In an instant the rough head of his horse stretched 
upward from the edge, and the rider and steed came 
scrambling out, and bounded up to us; a sudden jerk 
of the rein brought the wildly acting horse to a full 
stop. Then followed the needful formality of shaking 
hands. I forget our visitor's name. He was a young 
fellow, of no note in his nation; yet in his person and 
equipments he was a good specimen of a Sioux 
warrior in his ordinary traveling dress. Like most 
of his people, he was nearly six feet high; lithely 
and gracefully, yet strongly, proportioned; and with 
a skin singularly clear and delicate. He wore no 
paint; his head was bare; and his long hair was gath- 
ered in a clump behind, to the top of which was 
attached transversely, both by way of ornament 
and talisman, the mystic whistle, made of the wing- 
bone of the war eagle, and endowed with various 
magic virtues. From the back of his head descended 
a line of glittering brass plates, tapering from the 
size of a doubloon to that of a half-dime, a cumbrous 
ornament, in high vogue among the Sioux, and for 
which they pay the traders a most extravagant price; 
his chest and arms were naked, the buffalo robe, worn 
over them when at rest, had fallen about his waist, 
and was confined there by a belt. This, with the 
gay moccasins on his feet, completed his attire. For 



144 THE OREGON TRAIL 

arms he carried a quiver of dog-skin at his back, and 
a rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse had 
no bridle; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, 
served in place of one. The saddle was of most 
singular construction; it w^as made of wood covered 
with raw-hide, and both pommel and cantle rose 
perpendicularly full eighteen inches, so that the 
warrior was wedged firmly in his seat, whence nothing 
could dislodge him but the bursting of the girths. 

Advancing with our new companion, we found 
more of his people seated in a circle on the top of a 
hill; while a rude procession came straggling down 
the neighboring hollow, men, women, and children, 
with horses dragging the lodge-poles behind them. 
All that morning, as we moved forward, dozens of 
tall savages were stalking silently behind us. At 
noon we reached Horse Creek; and as we waded 
through the shallow w^ater, we saw a wild and strik- 
ing scene. The main body of the Indians had 
arrived before us. On the farther bank stood a 
large and strong man, nearly naked, holding a white 
horse by a long cord, and eying us as we approached. 
This was the chief, whom Henry called Old Smoke. 
Just behind him his youngest and favorite squaw sat 
astride of a fine mule; it was covered with caparisons 
of whitened skins, garnished with blue and white 
beads, and fringed with little ornaments of metal 
that tinkled with every movement of the animal. 
The girl had a light clear complexion, enlivened by a 
spot of vermilion on each cheek; she smiled, not to say 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 145 

grinned, upon us, showing two gleaming rows of 
white teeth. In her hand, she carried the tall lance 
of her unchivalrous lord, fluttering with feathers; 
his round white shield hung at the side of her mule; 
and his pipe was slung at her back. Her dress was a 
tunic of deer-skin, made beautifully white by means 
of a species of clay found on the prairie, and orna- 
mented with beads, arrayed in figures more gay than 
tasteful, and with long fringes at all the seams. 
Not far from the chief stood a group of stately figures, 
their white buffalo robes thrown over their shoulders, 
gazing coldly upon us; and in the rear, for several 
acres, the ground was covered w^ith a temporary 
encampment; men, women, and children swarmed 
like bees; hundreds of dogs, of all sizes and colors, 
ran restlessly about; and, close at hand, the wide 
shallow stream was alive with boys, girls, and young 
squaws, splashing, screaming, and laughing in the 
water. At the same time a long train of emigrant 
wagons was crossing the creek, and dragging in their 
slow, heavy procession, passed the encampment of 
the people w^hom they and their descendants, in the 
space of a century, are to sweep from the face of the 
earth. 

But for the encampment itself: it was merely a 
temporary bivouac in the heat of the day. None 
of the lodges were erected; but their heavy leather 
coverings, and the long poles used to support them, 
were scattered everywhere around, among weapons, 
domestic utensils, and the rude harness of mules 



146 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and horses. The squaws of each lazy warrior had 
made him a shelter from the sun, by stretching a few 
buffalo robes, or the corner of a lodge-covering, upon 
poles; and here he sat in the shade, w^ith a favorite 
young squaw, perhaps, at his side, glittering with all 
imaginable trinkets. Before him stood the insignia 
of his rank as a warrior, his white shield of bull- 
hide, his medicine bag, his bow and quiver, his lance 
and his pipe, raised aloft on a tripod of three poles. 
Except the dogs, the most active and noisy tenants 
of the camp were the old women, ugly as Macbeth's 
witches,^ with their hair streaming loose in the wind, 
and nothing but the tattered fragment of an old 
buffalo robe to hide their shriveled wiry limbs. The 
day of their favoritism passed two generations ago; 
now the heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon 
them; they were to harness the horses, pitch the 
lodges, dress the buffalo robes, and bring in meat 
for the hunters. With the cracked voices of these 
hags, the clamor of dogs, the shouting and laughing 
of children and girls, and the listless tranquillity of 
the warriors, the whole scene had an effect too lively 
and picturesque ever to be forgotten. • 

We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and 
having invited some of the chiefs and warriors to 
dinner, placed before them a sumptuous repast of 
biscuit and coffee. Squatted in a half circle on the 
ground, they soon disposed of it. As we rode for- 
ward on the afternoon journey, several of our late 
guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 147 

huge bloated savage of more than three hundred 
pounds' weight, christened Le Cochoyi, in considera- 
tion of his preposterous dimensions and certain 
corresponding traits of his character. The Hog 
bestrode a little white pony, scarce able to bear up 
under the enormous burden, though, by way of 
keeping up the necessary stimulus, the rider kept 
both feet in constant motion, playing alternately 
against his ribs. The old man was not a chief; he 
had never had ambition enough to become one; he 
was not a warrior nor a hunter, for he was too fat and 
lazy: but he was the richest man in the whole village. 
Riches among the Dahcotahs consist in horses, and 
of these The Hog had accumulatd more than thirty. 
He had already ten times as many as he wanted, yet 
still his appetite for horses was insatiable. Trotting 
up to me he shook me by the hand, and gave me to 
understand that he was a very devoted friend; and 
then he began a series of most earnest signs and 
gesticulations, his oily countenance radiant with 
smiles, and his little eyes peeping out with a cunning 
twinkle from between the masses of flesh that almost 
obscured them. Knowing nothing at that time of 
the sign-language of the Indians, I could only guess 
at his meaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. 
The Hog, it seems, was anxious to conclude a 
matrimonial bargain. He said he had a very pretty 
daughter in his lodge, whom he would give me, if I 
would give him my horse. These flattering overtures 
I chose to reject; at which The Hog, still laughing 



148 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with undiminished good humor, gathered his robe 
about his shoulders, and rode away. 

Where we encamped that night, an arm of the 
Platte ran between high bluffs; it was turbid and 
swift as heretofore, but trees were growing on its 
crumbling banks, and there was a nook of grass 
between the water and the hill. Just before entering 
this place, we saw the emigrants encamping at two 
or three miles' distance on the right; while the whole 
Indian rabble were pouring down the neighboring 
hill in hope of the same sort of entertainment which 
they had experienced from us. In the savage land- 
scape before our camp, nothing but the rushing of the 
Platte broke the stern silence. Through the ragged 
boughs of the trees, dilapidated and half dead, w^e saw 
the sun setting in crimson behind the peaks of the 
Black Hills, ^ the restless bosom of the river was suffused 
with red; our white tent was tinged with it, and the 
sterile bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned them, 
partook of the same fiery hue. It soon passed aw^ay; 
no light remained, but that from our fire, blazing 
high among the dusky trees and bushes. We lay 
around it wrapped in our blankets, smoking and 
conversing until a late hour, and then withdrew to 
our tent. 

We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next 
morning; the line of old cotton-wood trees that 
fringed the bank of the Platte forming its extreme 
verge. Nestled apparently close beneath them, we 
could discern in the distance something like a build- 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 149 

ing. As we came nearer, it assumed form and dimen- 
sion, and proved to be a rough structure of logs. It was 
a little trading fort, belonging to two private traders; 
and originally intended, like all the forts of the coun- 
try, to form a hollow square, with rooms for lodging 
and storage opening upon the area within. Only 
two sides of it had been completed; the place was now 
as ill-fitted for the purposes of defense as any of those 
little log-houses, which upon our constantly shifting 
frontier have been so often successfully maintained 
against overwhelming odds of Indians. Two lodges 
were pitched close to the fort; the sun beat scorching 
upon the logs; no living thing was stirring except one 
old squaw, who thrust her round head from the 
opening of the nearest lodge, and three or four stout 
young pups, who were peeping with looks of eager 
inquiry from under the covering. In a moment a 
door opened, and a little, swarthy, black-eyed French- 
man came out. His dress was rather singular; 
his black curling hair was parted in the middle of 
his head, and fell below his shoulders; he wore a 
tight frock of smoked deerskin, very gayly orna- 
mented with figures worked in dyed porcupine-quills. 
His moccasins and leggings were also gaudily adorned 
in the same manner; and the latter had in addition 
a line of long fringes, reaching down the seams. The 
small frame of Richard, for by this name Henry 
made him known to us, was in the highest degree 
athletic and vigorous. There was no superfluity, 
and indeed there seldom is among the active white 



150 THE OREGON TRAIL 

men of this country, but every limb was compact 
and hard; every sinew had its full tone and elasticity, 
and the whole man wore an air of mingled hardihood 
and buoyancy. 

Richard committed our horses to a Navaho slave, a 
mean-looking fellow taken prisoner on the Mexican 
frontier; and, relieving us of our rifles with ready 
politeness, led the way into the principal apartment 
of his establishment. This was a room ten feet 
square. The walls and floor were of black mud, 
and the roof of rough timber; there was a huge fire- 
place made of four flat rocks, picked up on the prairie. 
An Indian bow and otterskin quiver, several gaudy 
articles of Rocky Mountain finery, an Indian medicine 
bag, and a pipe and tobacco pouch, garnished the 
walls, and rifles rested in a corner. There was no 
furniture except a sort of rough settle covered with 
buffalo robes, upon which lolled a tall half-breed, 
with his hair glued in masses upon each temple, 
and saturated with vermilion. Two or three more 
^^mountain-men'' sat cross-legged on the floor. 
Their attire was not unlike that of Richard himself; 
but the most striking figure of the group was a 
naked Indian boy of sixteen, with a handsome face, 
and light, active proportions, who sat in an easy 
posture in the corner near the door. Not one of his 
limbs moved the breadth of a hair; his eye was fixed 
immovably, not on any person present, but, as it 
appeared, on the projecting corner of the fire-place 
opposite to him. 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 151 

On these prairies the custom of smoking with friends 
is seldom omitted, whether among Indians or whites. 
The pipe, therefore, w^as taken from the wall, and its 
great red bowl crammed with the tobacco and 
shongsasha,^ mixed in suitable proportions. Then 
it passed round the circle, each man inhaling a few 
whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. Having 
spent half an hour here, we took our leave; first 
inviting our new friends to drink a cup of coffee with 
us at our camp, a mile farther up the river. 

By this time, as the reader may conceive, we had 
grown rather shabby; our clothes had burst into rags 
and tatters; and what was worse, we had very little 
means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but seven 
miles before us. Being totally averse to appearing 
in such plight among any society that could boast 
an approximation to the civilized (and at Fort 
Laramie the approximation was very remote), we 
soon stopped by the river to make our toilet in the 
best way we could. We hung up small looking- 
glasses against the trees and shaved, an operation 
neglected for six weeks; we. performed our ablutions 
in the Platte, though the utility of such a proceeding 
was questionable, the w^ater looking exactly like a 
cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the 
softest and richest yellow mud, so that we were 
obliged, as a preliminary, to build a causeway of 
stout branches and twigs. Having also put on 
radiant moccasins, procured from a squaw of Richard's 
establishment, and made what other improvements 



152 THE OREGON TRAIL 

our narrow circumstances allowed, we took our seats 
on the grass with a feeling of greatly increased 
respectability, to await the arrival of our guests. 
They came; the banquet was concluded, and the 
pipe smoked. Bidding them adieu, we turned our 
horses' heads toward the fort. 

An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across 
our front, and we could see no farther; until having 
surmounted them, a rapid stream appeared at the 
foot of the descent, running into the Platte; beyond 
was a green meadow, dotted with bushes, and in the 
midst of these, at the point where the two rivers 
joined, were the low clay walls of a fort. This was 
not Fort Laramie, but another post of less recent 
date, that having sunk before its successful competi- 
tor, was now deserted and ruinous. A moment after 
the hills, seeming to draw apart as we advanced, 
disclosed Fort Laramie itself, its high bastions and 
perpendicular walls of clay crowning an eminence 
on the left beyond the stream, while behind stretched 
a line of arid and desolate ridges, and behind these 
again, towering aloft seven thousand feet, arose the 
grim Black Hills. 

We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly 
opposite the fort, but the stream, swollen with the 
rains in the mountains, was too fierce and rapid. 
We passed up along its bank to find a better crossing 
place. Men gathered on the wall to look at us. 
''There's Bordeaux!" called Henry, his face brighten- 
ing as he recognized his acquaintance; ''him there 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 153 

with the spyglass; and there's old Vaskiss, and 
Tucker, and May; and, by George! there's Cimoneau!" 
This Cimoneau was Henry's fast friend, and the only 
man in the country who could rival him in hunting. 
We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the 
pony approaching the bank with a countenance of 
cool indifference, bracing his feet and sliding into the 
stream with the most unmoved composure : 

At the first plunge the horse sunk low, 
And the waters broke o'er the saddle bow. 

We followed; the water boiled against our saddles, 
but our powerful horses bore us easily through. 
The unfortunate little mules came near going down 
with the current, cart and all; and we watched them 
with some solicitude scrambling over the loose 
round stones at the bottom, and bracing stoutly 
against the stream. All landed safely at -last; we 
crossed a little plain, descended a hollow, and riding 
up a steep bank found ourselves before the gateway 
of Fort Laramie, under the impending block-house 
erected above it to defend the entrance. 



CHAPTER IX 
Scenes at Fort Laramie 

Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon 
Fort Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like a 
reality than like some fanciful picture of the olden 
time; so different was the scene from any which this 
tamer side of the world can present. Tall Indians, 
enveloped in their white buffalo- robes, were striding 
across the area or reclining at full length on the low 
roofs of the buildings which enclosed it. Numerous 
squaws, gayly bedizened,^ sat grouped in front of the 
apartments they occupied; their mongrel offspring, 
restless and vociferous, rambled in every direction 
through the fort; and the trappers, traders, and 
engages'^ of the establishment were busy at their labor 
or their amusement. 

We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially 
welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some dis- 
trust and suspicion until Henry Chatillon explained 
that we were not traders,^ and we, in confirmation, 
handed to the bourgeois a letter of introduction from 
his principals. He took it, turned it upside down, 
and tried hard to read it; but his literary attainments 
not being adequate to the task, he applied for relief 

154 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 155 

to the clerk, a sleek, smiling Frenchman, named 
Montalon. The letter read, Bordeaux (the bourgeois) 
seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of what was 
expected of him. Though not deficient in hospitable 
intentions, he was w^iolly unaccustomed to act as 
master of ceremonies. Discarding all formalities of 
reception, he did not honor us with a single word, but 
walked swiftly across the area, while we followed in 
some admiration to a railing and a flight of steps 
opposite the entrance. He signed to us that we had 
better fasten our horses to the railing; then he walked 
up the steps, tramped along a rude balcony, and kick- 
ing open a door displayed a large room, rather more 
elaborately finished than a barn. For furniture it had 
a rough bedstead, but no bed; two chairs, a chest of 
drawers, a tin pail to hold water, and a board to cut 
tobacco upon. A brass crucifix hung on the wall, 
and close at hand a recent scalp, with hair full a yard 
long, was suspended from a nail. I shall again have 
occasion to mention this dismal trophy, its his- 
tory being connected with that of our subsequent 
proceedings. 

This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that 
usually occupied by the legitimate bourgeois, Papin, 
in whose absence the command devolved upon Bor- 
deaux. The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much 
inflated by a sense of his new authority, began to roar 
for buffalo-robes. These being brought and spread 
upon the floor formed our beds; much better ones 
than we had of late been accustomed to. Our arrange- 



156 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ments made, we stepped out to the balcony to take 
a more leisurely survey of the long-looked-for haven 
at which we had arrived at last. Beneath us was 
the square area surrounded by little rooms, or rather 
cells, which opened upon it. These were devoted to 
various purposes, but served chiefly for the accommo- 
dation of the men employed at the fort, or of the 
equally numerous squaws, wdiom they were allowed 
to maintain in it. Opposite to us rose the block-house 
above the gateway; it w^as adorned with a figure which 
even now haunts my memory; a horse at full speed, 
daubed upon the boards with red paint, and exhibiting 
a degree of skill which might rival that displayed by 
the Indians in executing similar designs upon their 
robes and lodges. A busy scene was enacting in the 
area. The wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were 
about to set out for a remote post in the mountains, 
and the Canadians were going through their prepara- 
tions with all possible bustle, while here and there an 
Indian stood looking on with imperturbable gravity. 
Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the 
American Fur Company, who well-nigh monopolize 
the Indian trade of this whole region. Here their 
officials rule with an absolute sway; the arm of the 
United States has little force; for when we were there 
the extreme outposts of her troops were about seven 
hundred miles to the eastward. The little fort is 
built of bricks dried in the sun, and externally it is 
of an oblong form, with bastions of clay, in the form 
of ordinary block-houses, at two of the corners. The 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 157 

walls are about fifteen feet high, and surmounted by 
a slender palisade.^ The roofs of the apartments 
within, which are built close against the walls, serve 
the purpose of a banquette.^ Within, the fort is 
divided by a partition; on one side is the square area 
surrounded by the storerooms, offices, and apartments 
of the inmates; on the other is the corral, a narrow 
place encompassed by the high clay walls, where at 
night, or in presence of dangerous Indians, the 
horses and mules of the fort are crowded for safe- 
keeping. The main entrance has two gates, with an 
arched passage intervening. A little square window, 
quite high above the ground, opens laterally from an 
adjoining chamber into this passage; so that when the 
inner gate is closed and barred, a person without may 
still hold communication with those within through 
this narrow aperture. This obviates the necessity of 
admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes of trading, 
into the body of the fort; for when danger is appre- 
hended, the inner gate is shut fast, and all traffic is 
carried on by means of the little window. This 
precaution, though highly necessary at some of the 
Company's posts, is now seldom resorted to at Fort 
Laramie; where, though men are frequently killed in 
its neighborhood, no apprehensions are now enter- 
tained of any general designs of hostility from the 
Indians. 

We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. 
The door was slightly pushed open, and two eyeballs 
and a visage as black as night looked in upon us; 



158 THE OREGON TRAIL 

then a red arm and shoulder intruded themselves, 
and a tall Indian gliding in, shook us by the hand, 
grunted his salutation, and sat down on the floor. 
Others followed, with faces of the natural hue; and 
letting fall their heavy robes from their shoulders, 
they took their seats, quite at ease, in a semicircle 
before us. The pipe was now to be lighted and passed 
round from one to another; and this was the only 
entertainment that at present they expected from us. 
These visitors were fathers, brothers, or other relatives 
of the squaws in the fort, where they were permitted 
to remain loitering about in perfect idleness. All 
those who smoked with us were men of standing and 
repute. Two or three others dropped in also; young 
fellows who neither by their years nor their exploits 
were entitled to rank with the old men and warriors, 
and who, abashed in the presence of their superiors, 
stood aloof, never withdrawing their eyes from us. 
Their cheeks were adorned with vermilion, their ears 
with pendants of shell, and their necks with beads. 
Never yet having signalized themselves as hunters, 
or performed the honorable exploit of killing a man, 
they were held in slight esteem, and were diffident 
and bashful in proportion. Certain formidable incon- 
veniences attended this influx of visitors. They 
were bent on inspecting everything in the room; our 
equipments and our dress alike underwent their 
scrutiny; for though the contrary has been carelessly 
asserted, few beings have more curiosity than Indians 
in regard to subjects within their ordinary range of 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 159 

thought. As to other matters, indeed, they seem 
utterly indifferent. They will not trouble themselves 
to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, but 
are quite contented to place their hands over their 
mouths in token of wonder, and exclaim that it is 
'' great medicine. ' ' With this comprehensive solution, 
an Indian never is at a loss. He never launches forth 
into speculation and conjecture; his reason moves in 
its beaten track. His soul is dormant; and no exer- 
tions of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the 
Old World or of the New, have as yet availed to 
rouse it. 

As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon 
the w^ild and desolate plains that surround the fort, we 
observed a cluster of strange objects like scaffolds 
rising in the distance against the red western sky. 
They bore aloft some singular-looking burdens; and 
at their foot glimmered something like white bones. 
This was the place of sepulture of some Dahcotah 
chiefs, whose remains their people are fond of placing 
in the vicinity of the fort, in the hope that they may 
thus be protected from violation at the hands of 
their enemies. Yet it has happened more than once 
and quite recently, that w^ar parties of the Crow 
Indians, ranging through the country, have thrown 
the bodies from the scaffolds, and broken them to 
pieces amid the yells of the Dahcotahs, who remained 
pent up in the fort, too few to defend the honored 
relics from insult. The white objects upon the ground 
were buffalo skulls, arranged in the mystic circle 



160 THE OREGON TRAIL 

commonly seen at Indian places of sepulture upon 
the prairie. 

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty 
or sixty horses approaching the fort. These were the 
animals belonging to the establishment; who having 
been sent out to feed, under the care of armed guards, 
in the meadows below, were now being driven into 
the corral for the night. A little gate opened into 
this inclosure; by the side of it stood one of the guards, 
an old Canadian, with gray bushy eyebrows, and a 
dragoon-pistol stuck into his belt; while his comrade, 
mounted on horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle 
in front of him, and his long hair blowing before his 
swarthy face, rode at the rear of the disorderly troop, 
urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrow 
corral was thronged w^ith the half- wild horses, kicking, 
biting, and crowding restlessly together. 

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian 
in the area, summoned us to supper. This sumptuous 
repast was served on a rough table in one of the lower 
apartments of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread 
and dried buffalo meat — an excellent thing for strength- 
ening the teeth. At this meal were seated the hour- 
geois and superior dignitaries of the establishment, 
among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily included. 
No sooner was it finished, than the table was spread 
a second time (the luxury of bread being now, however, 
omitted), for the benefit of certain hunters and 
trappers of an inferior standing; while the ordinary 
Canadian engages were regaled on dried meat in one 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 161 

of their lodging-rooms. By way of illustrating the 
domestic economy of Fort Laramie, it may not be 
amiss to introduce in this place a story current among 
the men when we were there. 

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty 
was to bring the meat from the storeroom for the men. 
Old Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to select 
the fattest and the best pieces for his companions. 
This did not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, w^ho 
was greatly disturbed at such improvidence, and cast 
about for some means to stop it. At last he hit on 
a plan that exactly suited him. At the side of the 
meat-room, and separated from it by a clay partition, 
was another apartment, used for the storage of furs. 
It had no other communication with the fort, except 
through a square hole in the partition; and of course 
it was perfectly dark. One evening Papin, watching 
for a moment when no one observed him, dodged into 
the meat-room, clambered through the hole, and 
ensconced himself among the furs and buffalo-robes. 
Soon after, old Pierre came in with his lantern; and, 
muttering to himself, began to pull over the bales of 
meat and select the best pieces, as usual. But sud- 
denly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded from 
the inner apartment: "Pierre! Pierre! Let that fat 
meat alone! Take nothing but lean!" Pierre dropped 
his lantern, and bolted out into the fort, screaming, 
in an agony of terror, that the devil was in the store- 
room; but tripping on the threshold, he pitched over 
upon the gravel, and lay senseless, stunned by the 



162 THE OREGON TRAIL 

fall. The Canadians ran out to the rescue. Some 
lifted the unlucky Pierre; and others^ making an 
extempore crucifix out of two sticks, were proceeding 
to attack the devil in his stronghold, when Papin, 
with a crestfallen countenance, appeared at the door. 
To add to the bourgeois' mortification, he was obliged 
to explain the whole stratagem to Pierre, in order to 
bring the latter to his senses. 

We were sitting, on the following morning, in the 
passage-way between the gates, conversing with the 
traders Vaskiss and May. These tw^o men, together 
with our sleek friend, the clerk Montalon, were, I 
believe, the only persons then in the fort who could 
read and write. May was telling a curious story 
about the traveler Catlin,^ when an ugly, diminutive 
Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, 
and rode past us into the fort. On being ques- 
tioned, he said that Smoke's village was close 
at hand. Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed 
before the hills beyond the river w^ere covered 
with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horse- 
back and on foot. May finished his story; and by 
that time the whole array had descended to Laramie 
Creek, and commenced crossing it in a mass. I 
walked down to the bank. The stream is wide, and 
was then between three and four feet deep, with a 
very swift current. For several rods the water was 
alive with dogs, horses, and Indians. The long poles 
used in erecting the lodges are carried by the horses, 
being fastened by the heavier end, two or three on 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 163 

each side, to a rude sort of pack saddle, while the 
other end drags on the ground. About a foot behind 
the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier is suspended 
between the poles, and firmly lashed in its place. On 
the back of the horse were piled various articles of 
luggage; the basket also is well filled with domestic 
utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, 
a brood of small children, or a superannuated old 
man. Numbers of these curious vehicles, called, in 
the bastard language of the country, travaux, were 
now splashing together through the stream. Among 
them swam countless dogs, often burdened with 
miniature travaux; and dashing forward on horse- 
back through the throng came the superbly formed 
warriors, the slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy 
clinging fast behind them. The women sat perched 
on the pack saddles, adding not a little to the load of 
the already overburdened horses. The confusion was 
prodigious. The dogs yelled and howled in chorus; 
the puppies in the travaux set up a dismal whine as 
the water invaded their comfortable retreat; the 
little black-eyed children, from one year of age up- 
ward, clung fast with both hands to the edge of their 
basket, and looked over in alarm at the water rushing 
so near them, sputtering and making wTy mouths as 
it splashed against their faces. Some of the dogs, 
encumbered by their load, were carried down by the 
current, yelping piteously; and the old squaws would 
rush into the water, seize their favorites by the neck, 
and drag them out. As each horse gained the bank, 



164 THE OREGON TRAIL 

he scrambled up as he could. Stray horses and colts 
came among the rest, often breaking away at full 
speed through the crowd, followed by the old hags, 
screaming ' after their fashion on all occasions ^of 
excitement. Buxom young squaws, blooming in all 
the charms of vermilion, stood here and there on the 
bank, holding aloft their master's lance, as a signal 
to collect the scattered portions of his household. In 
a few moments the crowd melted away; each family, 
with its horses and equipage, filing off to the plain at 
the rear of the fort; and here, in the space of half an 
hour, arose sixty or seventy of their tapering lodges. 
Their horses were feeding by hundreds over the sur- 
rounding prairie, and their dogs were roaming every- 
where. The fort was full of men, and the children 
were whooping and yelling incessantly under the walls. 
These newcomers were scarcely arrived, when 
Bordeaux was running Across the fort, shouting to his 
squaw to bring him his spy-glass. The obedient 
Marie, the very model of a squaw, produced the instru- 
ment, and Bordeaux hurried with it up to the wall. 
Pointing it to the eastward, he exclaimed, with an 
oath, that the families were coming. But a few 
moments elapsed before the heavy caravan of the 
emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily advancing 
from the hills. They gained the river, and without 
turning or pausing plunged in; they passed through, 
and slowly ascending the opposing bank, kept directly 
on their way past the fort and the Indian village, until, 
gaining a spot a quarter of a mile distant^ they wheeled 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 165 

into a circle. For some time our tranquillity was 
undisturbed. The emigrants were preparing their 
encampment; but no sooner was this accomplished 
than Fort Laramie was fairly taken by storm. A 
crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring 
eyes appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall, awkward 
men, in brown homespun; women with cadaverous 
faces and long lank figures, came thronging in together 
and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, 
ransacked every nook and corner of the fort. Dis- 
mayed at this invasion, we withdrew in all speed to 
our chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove an 
inviolable sanctuary. Meanwhile, the emigrants 
prosecuted their investigations with untiring vigor. 
They penetrated the rooms, or rather dens, inhabited 
by the astonished squaws. They explored the apart- 
ments of the men, and even that of Marie and the 
bourgeois. At last a numerous deputation appeared 
at our door, but were immediately expelled. Being 
totally devoid of any sense of delicacy or propriety, 
they seemed resolved to search every mystery to the 
bottom. 

Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they 
next proceeded to business. The men occupied 
themselves in procuring supplies for their onward 
journey; either buying them with money or giving in 
exchange superfluous articles of their own. In these 
transactions, conducted under the auspices of the 
smooth Montalon, a most base advantage was taken 
of the ignorance and the necessities of the emigrants. 



166 THE OREGON TRAIL 

They were plundered and cheated without mercy. 
In one bargain concluded in my presence, I calculated 
the profits that accrued to the fort, and found that 
at the lowest estimate they exceeded eighteen hundred 
per cent. 

This system of contemptible trickery did not tend 
to remove the prejudice which the emigrants enter- 
tained against the French Indians, as they called the 
trappers and traders. They thought, and with some 
justice, that these men bore them no good will. Many 
of them were firmly persuaded that the French were 
instigating the Indians to attack and cut them off. 
On visiting the encampment we were at once struck 
with the extraordinary perplexity and indecision 
that prevailed among the emigrants. They seemed 
like men totally out of their elements; bewildered 
and amazed, like a troop of school-boys lost in the 
woods. It was impossible to be long among them 
without being conscious of the high and bold spirit 
with which most of them were animated. But the 
forest is the home of the backwoodsman. On the 
remote prairie he is totally at a loss. He differs as 
much from the genuine "mountain-man/* the wild 
prairie hunter, as a Canadian voyageur, paddling his 
canoe on the rapids of the Ottawa, differs from an 
American sailor among the storms of Cape Horn. 
Still my companion and I were somewhat at a loss to 
account for this perturbed state of mind. It could 
not be cowardice; these men were of the same stock 
with the volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista. ^ 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 167 

For the most part, they were the rudest and most 
ignorant of the frontier population; they knew 
absolutely nothing of the country and its.inhabitants; 
they had already experienced much misfortune, and 
apprehended more; they had seen nothing of man- 
kind, and had never put their own resources to the 
test. 

A full proportion of suspicion fell upon us. Being 
strangers, we were looked upon as enemies. Having 
occasion for a supply of lead and a few other necessary 
articles, we used to go over to the emigrant camps to 
obtain them. After some hesitation, some dubious 
glances, and fumbling of the hands in the pockets, 
the terms would be agreed upon, the price tendered, 
and the emigrant would go off to bring the article 
in question. After waiting until our patience gave 
out, we would go in search of him, and find him seated 
on the tongue of his wagon. 

"Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us 
approach, "I reckon I won't trade!" 

Some friend of his had followed him from the scene 
of the bargain, and suggested in his ear, that clearly 
we meant to cheat him, and he had better have 
nothing to do with us. 

This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly 
unfortunate, as it exposed them to real danger. 
Assume, in the presence of Indians, a bold bearing, 
self-confident yet vigilant, and you will find them 
tolerably safe neighbors. But your safety depends 
on the respect and fear you are able to inspire. If 



168 THE OREGON TRAIL 

you betray timidity or indecision, you convert them 
from that moment into insidious and dangerous 
enemies. The Dahcotahs saw clearly enough the 
perturbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed 
themselves of it. They became extremely insolent 
and exacting in their demands. It has become an 
established custom with them to go to the camp of 
every party, as it arrives in succession at -the fort, 
and demand a feast. Smoke's village had come with 
this express design, having made several days' jour- 
ney with no other object than that of enjoying a cup 
of coffee, and two or three biscuits. So the '^ feast" 
was demanded, and the emigrants dared not refuse it. 
One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. 
We met old men, warriors, squaws; and children in 
gay attire, trooping off to the encampment, with 
faces of anticipation; and, arriving here, they seated 
themselves in a semicircle. Smoke occupied the 
center, with his warriors on either hand; the young 
men and boys next succeeded, and the squaws and 
children formed the horns of the crescent. The bis- 
cuit and coffee were most promptly dispatched, the 
emigrants staring open-mouthed at their savage 
guests. With each new emigrant party that arrived 
at Fort Laramie this scene was renewed; and every 
day the Indians grew more rapacious and presump- 
tuous. One evening they broke to pieces, out of 
mere wantonness, the cups from which they had 
been feasted; and this so exasperated the emigrants 
that many of them seized their rifles and could scarcely 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 169 

be restrained from firing on the insolent mob of 
Indians. Before we left the country this dangerous 
spirit on the part of the Dahcotahs had mounted to 
a yet higher pitch. They began openly to threaten 
the emigrants with destruction, and actually fired 
upon one or two parties of whites. A military force 
and military law are urgently called for in that per- 
ilous region; and unless troops are speedily stationed 
at Fort Laramie, or elsewhere in the neighborhood, 
both the emigrants and other travelers will be ex- 
posed to most imminent risks. 

The Ogallallahs, the Brules, and other western 
bands of the Dahcotahs are thorough savages, un- 
changed by any contact with civilization. Not one 
of them can speak a European tongue, or has ever 
visited an American settlement. Until within a 
year or two, when the emigrants began to pass 
through their country on the way to Oregon, they 
had seen no whites except the handful employed 
about the Fur Company's posts. They esteemed 
them a wise people, inferior only to themselves, 
living in leather lodges, like their own, and sub- 
sisting on buffalo. But when the swarm of Meneaska,^ 
with their oxen and wagons, began to invade them, 
their astonishment was unbounded. They could 
scarcely believe that the earth contained such a 
multitude of white men. Their wonder is now 
giving way to indignation: and the result, unless 
vigilantly guarded against, may be lamentable in the 
extreme. 



170 THE OREGON TRAIL 

But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and 
I used often to visit them. Indeed we spent most 
of our evenings in the Indian village; Shaw's assump- 
tion of the medical character giving us a fair pretext. 
As a sample of the rest I will describe one of these 
visits. The sun had just set, and the horses were 
driven into the corral. The Prairie Cock, a noted 
beau, came in at the gate with a bevy of young girls, 
with whom he began a dance in the area, leading 
them round and round in a circle, while he jerked up 
from his chest a succession of monotonous sounds, 
to which they kept time in a rueful chant. Outside 
the gate some dozen of boys and young men were 
idly frolicking; and close by, looking grimly upon 
them, stood a warrior in his robe, with his face painted 
jet-black, in token that he had lately taken a Pawnee 
scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodges rose 
between us and the red western sky. We repaired 
at once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It was 
by no means better than the others; indeed, it was 
rather shabby; for in this democratic community 
the chief never assumes superior state. Smoke sat 
cross-legged on a buffalo robe, and his grunt of salu- 
tation as we entered was unusually cordial, out of 
respect no doubt to Shaw's medical character. 
Seated around the lodge were several squaws, and 
an abundance of children. The. complaint of Shaw's 
patients was, for the most part, a severe inflammation 
of the eyes, occasioned by exposure to the sun, a 
species of disorder which he treated with some 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 171 

success. He had brought with him a homeopathic 
medicine chest, and was, I presume, the first who 
introduced that harmless system of treatment among 
the Ogallallahs. No sooner had a robe been spread 
at the head of the lodge for our accommodation, and 
we had seated ourselves upon it, than a patient 
made her appearance: the chief's daughter herself, 
who, to do her justice, was the best-looking girl in 
the village. Being on excellent terms with the 
physician, she placed herself readily under his hands, 
and submitted with a good grace to his applications, 
laughing in his face during the whole process, for a 
squaw hardly knows how to smile. This case dis- 
patched, another of a different kind succeeded. A 
hideous, emaciated old woman sat in the darkest 
corner of the lodge rocking to* and fro with pain and 
hiding her eyes from the light by pressing the palms 
of both hands against her face. At Smoke's com- 
mand, she came forward, very unwillingly, and 
exhibited a pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared 
from excess of inflammation. No sooner had the 
doctor fastened his gripe upon her than she set up a 
dismal moaning, and writhed so in his grasp that he 
lost all patience, but being resolved to carry his 
point, he succeeded at last in applying his favorite 
remedies. 

^^It is strange," he said, when the operation was 
finished, ^'that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies^ 
w^th me; we must have something here to answer for 
a counter-irritant!" 



172 THE OREGON TRAIL 

So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red- 
hot brand from the fire, and clapped it against the 
temple of the old squaw, who set up an unearthly 
howl, at which the rest of the family broke out into 
a laugh. 

During these medical operations Smoke's eldest 
squaw entered the lodge, with a sort of stone mallet 
in her hand. I had observed some time before a 
litter of well-grown black puppies, comfortably 
nestled among some buffalo robes at one side, but this 
newcomer speedily disturbed their enjoyment; for 
seizing one of them by the hind paw, she dragged 
him out, and carrying him to the entrance of the 
lodge, hammered him on the head till she killed him. 
Being quite conscious to what this preparation tended 
I looked through a hole in the back of the lodge to 
see the next steps of the process. The squaw, hold- 
ing the puppy by the legs, was swinging him to and 
fro through the blaze of a fire, until the hair was 
singed off. This done, she unsheathed her knife and 
cut him into small pieces, which she dropped into a 
kettle to boil. In a few moments a large wooden 
dish was set before us, filled with this delicate prep- 
aration. We felt conscious of the honor. A dog- 
feast is the greatest compliment a Dahcotah can 
offer to his guest; and knowing that to refuse eating 
would be an affront, we attacked the little dog and 
devoured him before the eyes of his "unconscious 
parent. Smoke in the meantime was preparing his 
great pipe. It was lighted when we had finished our 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 173 

repast, and we passed it from one to another till the 
bowl was empty. This done, we took our leave 
without further ceremony, knocked at the gate of 
the fort, and after making ourselves known were 
admitted. 

The reader will not have forgotten our comrades 
whom we so barely ran away from on the South Fork of 
the Platte. One morning, about a week after reaching 
Fort Laramie, we were holding our customary Indian 
levee, when a bustle in the area below announced a 
new arrival; and looking down from our balcony, I 
saw a familiar red beard and mustache in the gateway. 
They belonged to the Captain, who with his party 
had just crossed the stream. We met him on the 
stairs as he came up, and congratulated him on the 
safe arrival of himself and his devoted companions. 
But he remembered our treachery, and was grave 
and dignified accordingly; a tendency which increased 
as he observed on our part a disposition to laugh at 
him. After remaining an hour or two at the fort 
he rode away with his friends, and we have heard 
nothing of him since. As for R., he kept carefully 
aloof. It was but too evident that we had the un- 
happiness to have forfeited the kind regards of our 
London fellow-traveler. 



CHAPTER X 

The War Parties 

The summer of 1846 was a season of much warlike 
excitement among all the western bands of the 
Dahcotahs. In 1845 they encountered great reverses. 
Many war parties had been sent out; some of them 
had been totally cut off, and others had returned 
broken and disheartened, so that the whole nation 
was in mourning. Among the rest, ten warriors had 
gone to the Snake country, led by the son of a promi- 
nent Ogallallah chief, called The Whirlwind. In 
passing over Laramie Plains they encountered a 
superior number of their enemies, were surrounded, 
and killed to a man. Having performed this exploit 
the Snakes became alarmed, dreading the resent- 
ment of the Dahcotahs, and they hastened therefore 
to signify their wish for peace by sending the scalp 
of the slain partisan, together with a small parcel 
of tobacco attached, to his tribesmen and relations. 
They had employed old Vaskiss, the trader, as their 
messenger, and the scalp was the same that hung in 
our room at the fort. But The Whirlwind proved 
inexorable. Though his character hardly corre- 
sponds with his name, he is nevertheless an Indian, 
and hates the Snakes with his whole soul. Long 

174 



THE WAR PARTIES 175 

before the scalp arrived he had made his preparations 
for revenge. He sent messengers with presents and 
tobacco to all tlie Dahcotahs within three hundred 
miles, proposing a grand combination to chastise 
the Snakes, and naming a place and time of rendez- 
vous. The plan was readily adopted, and at this 
moment many villages, probably embracing in the 
whole five or six thousand souls, were slowly creeping 
over the prairies and tending toward the common 
center at La Bonte's camp, on the Platte. Here their 
warlike rites were to be celebrated with more than 
ordinary solemnity, and a thousand warriors, as it 
was said, were to set out for the enemy's country. 
The characteristic result of this preparation will 
appear in the sequel. 

I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. 1 had come 
into the country chiefly with a view of observing the 
Indian character. To accomplish my purpose it 
was necessary to live in the midst of them, and be- 
come, as it were, one of them. I proposed to join 
a village, and make myself an inmate of one of their 
lodges; and henceforward this narrative, so far as 
I am concerned, will be chiefly a record of the prog- 
ress of this design, apparently so easy of accom- 
plishment, and the unexpected impediments that 
opposed it. 

We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous 
at La Bonte's camp. Our plan was to leave Delorier 
at the fort, in charge of our equipage and the better 
part of our horses, while we took with us nothing but 



176 THE OREGON TRAIL 

our weapons and the worst animals we had. In all 
probability jealousies and quarrels would arise 
among so many hordes of fierce impulsive savages, 
congregated together under no common head, and 
many of them strangers, from remote prairies and 
mountains. We were bound in common prudence to 
be cautious how we excited any feeling of cupidity. 
This was our plan, but unhappily we were not destined 
to visit La Bonte's camp in this manner; for one 
morning a young Indian came to the fort and brought 
us evil tidings. The newcomer was an arrant dandy. 
His ugly face was painted with vermilion; on his 
head fluttered the tail of a prairie cock (a large species 
of pheasant, not found, as I have heard, eastward 
of the Rocky Mountains); in his ears were hung 
pendants of shell, and a flaming red blanket was 
wrapped around him. He carried a dragoon sword 
in his hand, solely for display, since the knife, the 
arrow, and the rifle are the arbiters of every prairie 
fight; but as no one in this country goes abroad 
unarmed, the dandy carried a bow and arrows in an 
otter-skin quiver at his back. In this guise, and 
bestriding his yellow horse with -an air of extreme 
dignity. The Horse, for that was his name, rode in at 
the gate, turning neither to the right nor' the left, 
but casting glances askance at the groups of squaws 
who, with their mongrel progeny, were sitting in the 
sun before their doors. The evil tidings brought 
by The Horse were of the following import: The 
squaw of Henry Chatillon, a woman with whom he 



THE WAR PARTIES 177 

had been connected for years by the strongest jiies 
which in that country exist between the sexes, was 
dangerously ill. She and her children were in the 
village of The Whirlwind, at the distance of a few 
days' journey. Henry was anxious to see the 
woman before she died, and provide for the safety 
and support of his children, of whom he was extremely 
fond. To have refused him this would have been 
inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joining 
Smoke's village, and of proceeding with it to the 
rendezvous, and determined to meet The Whirlwind, 
and go in his company. 

I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the 
third night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent 
pain awoke me, and I found myself attacked by the 
same disorder that occasioned such heavy losses to 
the army on the Rio Grande.^ In a day and a half 
I was reduced to extreme weakness, so that I could 
not walk without pain and effort. Having no med- 
ical adviser, nor any choice of diet, I resolved to 
throw myself upon Providence for recovery, using, 
without regard to the disorder, any portion of strength 
that might remain to me. So on the twentieth of 
June we set out from Fort Laramie to meet The 
Whirlwind's village. Though aided by the high- 
bowed '^mountain saddle," I could scarcely keep my 
seat on horseback. Before we left the fort we hired 
another man, a long-haired Canadian, with a face like 
an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with Delorier's 
mercurial countenance. This was not the only rein- 



178 THE OREGON TRAIL 

forQement to our party. A vagrant Indian trader, 
named Reynal, joined us, together with his squaw 
Margot, and her two nephews, our dandy friend, The 
Horse, and his younger brother. The Hail Storm. 
Thus accompanied, w^e betook ourselves to the 
prairie, leaving the beaten trail, and passing over the 
desolate hills that flank the bottoms of Laramie 
Creek. In all, Indians and whites, we counted eight 
men and one woman. 

Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish 
complacency, carried The Horse's dragoon sword in 
his hand, delighting apparently in this useless parade; 
for, from spending half his life among Indians, he had 
caught not only their habits but their ideas. Margot, 
a female animal of more than two hundred pounds' 
weight, was couched in the basket of a traineau, such 
as I have before described; besides her ponderous 
bulk, various domestic utensils were attached to the 
vehicle, and she was leading by a trail-rope a pack- 
horse, which carried the covering of Reynal's lodge. 
Delorier walked briskly by the side of the cart, and 
Raymond came behind, swearing at the spare horses, 
which it was his business to drive. The restless 
young Indians, their quivers at their backs and their 
bows in their hands, galloped over the hills, often 
starting a wolf or an antelope from the thick growth 
of wild-sage bushes. Shaw and I were in keeping 
with the rest of the rude cavalcade, having in the 
absence of other clothing adopted the buckskin attire 
of the trappers. Henry Chatillon rode in advance of 



THE WAR PARTIES 179 

the whole. Thus we passed hill after hill and hollow 
after hollow, a country arid, broken, and so parched 
by the sun that none of the plants familiar to our 
more favored soil would flourish upon it, though there 
were multitudes of strange medicinal herbs, more 
especially the absinth, ^ which covered every declivity, 
and cacti were hanging like reptiles at the edges of 
every ravine. At length we ascended a high hill, 
our horses treading upon pebbles of flint, agate, and 
rough jasper, until, gaining the top, we looked down 
on the wild bottoms of Laramie Creek, which far 
below us wound like a writhing snake from side to side 
of the narrow interval, amid a growth of shattered 
cotton-wood and ash trees. Lines of tall cliffs, 
white as chalk, shut in this green strip of. woods and 
meadow land, into which we descended and encamped 
for the night. In the morning we passed a wide 
grassy plain by the river; there was a grove in front, 
and beneath its shadows the ruins of an old trading 
fort of logs. The grove bloomed with myriads of 
wild roses, with their sweet perfume fraught with 
recollections of home. As we emerged from the trees, 
a rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, and more than 
four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely rattling 
and hissing at us; a gray hare, double the size of those 
of New England, leaped up from the tall ferns; curlew 
were screaming over our heads, and a whole host of 
little prairie dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of 
their burrows on the dry plain beyond. Suddenly 
an antelope leaped up frorn the wild-sage bushes, 



180 THE OREGON TRAIL 

gazed eagerly at us, and then, erecting his white tail, 
stretched away like a greyhound. The two Indian 
boys found a white wolf, as large as a calf, in a hollow, 
and giving a sharp yell they galloped after him; but 
the wolf leaped into the stream and swam across. 
Then came the crack of a rifle, the bullet whistling 
harmlessly over his head, as he scrambled up the 
steep declivity, rattling down stones and earth into 
the water below. Advancing a little, we beheld on 
the farther bank of the stream a spectacle not com- 
mon even in that region; for, emerging from among 
the trees, a herd of some two hundred elk came out 
upon the meadow, their antlers clattering as they 
walked forward in a dense throng. Seeing us, they 
broke into a run, rushing across the opening and 
disappearing among the trees and scattered groves. 
On our left was a barren prairie, stretching to the 
horizon; on our right, a deep gulf, with Laramie 
Creek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length 
at the edge of a steep descent; a narrow valley, with 
lon^ rank grass and scattered trees stretching before 
us for a mile or more along the course of the stream. 
Reaching the farther end, we stopped and encamped. 
An old huge cotton-wood tree spread its branches 
horizontally over our tent. Laramie Creek, circling 
before our camp, half inclosed us; it swept along the 
bottom of a line of tall white cliffs that looked down 
on us from the farther bank. There were dense 
copses on our right; the cliffs, too, were half hidden by 
shrubbery, though behind us a few cotton-wood trees, 



THE WAR PARTIES 181 

dotting the green prairie, alone impeded the view, and 
friend or enemy could be discerned in that direction 
at a mile's distance. Here we resolved to remain 
and await the arrival of The Whirlwind, who would 
certainly pass this way in his progress tow^ard La 
Bonte's camp. To go in search, of him was not 
expedient, both on account of the broken and imprac- 
ticable nature of the country and the uncertainty of 
his position and movements; besides, our horses were 
almost worn out, and I was in no condition to travel. 
We had good grass, good water, tolerable fish from 
the stream, and plenty of smaller game, such as ante- 
lope and deer, though no buffalo. There was one 
little drawback to our satisfaction — a certain exten- 
sive tract of bushes and dried grass, just behind us, 
wdiich it was by no means advisable to enter, since it 
sheltered a numerous brood of rattlesnakes. Henry 
Chatillon again dispatched The Horse to the village, 
w^th a message to his squaw that she and her relatives 
should leave the rest and push on as rapidly as pos- 
sible to our camp. 

Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of 
a well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old 
tree was in the center; our rifles generally rested against 
its vast trunk, and our saddles were flung on the 
ground around it; its distorted roots were so tw^isted 
as to form one or two convenient arm-chairs, where 
we could sit in the shade and read or smoke; but meal- 
times became, on the w^hole, the most interesting 
hours of the day, and a bountiful provision was made 



182 THE OREGON TRAIL 

for them. An antelope or a deer usually swung from 
a stout bough, and haunches were suspended against 
the trunk. That camp is daguerreotyped^ on my 
memory; the old tree, the w^hite tent, with Shaw 
sleeping in the shadow of it, and Reynal's miserable 
lodge close by the bank of the stream. It was a 
wretched oven-shaped structure, made of begrimed 
and tattered buffalo hides stretched over a frame of 
poles; one side was open, and at the side of the opening 
hung the powder horn and bullet pouch of the owner, 
together with his long red pipe, and a rich quiver of 
otter-skin, with a bow and arrows; for Reynal, an 
Indian in most things but color, chose to hunt buffalo 
with these primitive weapons. In the darkness of 
this cavern-like habitation, might be discerned Madame 
Margot, her overgrown bulk stowed away among her 
domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and 
painted cases of rawhide, in which dried meat is kept. 
Here she sat from sunrise to sunset, a bloated imper- 
sonation of gluttony and laziness, while her affection- 
ate proprietor was smoking, or begging petty gifts 
from us, or telling lies concerning his own achieve- 
ments, or perchance engaged in the more profitable 
occupation of cooking some preparation of prairie 
delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work; he and 
Delorier have joined forces, and are hard at work 
together over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by 
way of tablecloth, a buffalo hide, carefully whitened 
with pipeclay, on the grass before the tent. Here, he 
arranges the teacups and plates; and then, creeping 



THE WAR PARTIES 183 

on all fours, like a dog, he thrusts his head in at -the 
opening of the tent. For a moment we see his round 
owlish eyes rolling wildly, as if the idea he came to 
communicate had suddenly escaped him; then col- 
lecting his scattered thoughts, as if by an effort, he 
informs us that supper is ready, and instantly 
withdraws. 

When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and 
desolate scene would assume a new aspect, the horses 
were driven in. They had been grazing all day in the 
neighboring meadow, but now they were picketed 
close about the camp. As the prairie darkened we 
sat and conversed around the fire, until becoming 
drowsy we spread our saddles on the ground, wrapped 
our blankets around us, and lay down. We never 
placed a guard, having by this time become too 
indolent; but Henry Chatillon folded his loaded rifle 
in the same blanket with himself, observing that he 
always took it to bed with him when he camped in 
that place. Henry was too bold a man to use such 
a precaution without good cause. We had a hint now 
and then that our situation w^as none of the safest; 
several Crow war parties were known to be in the 
vicinity, and one of them, that passed here some 
time before, had peeled the bark from a neighboring 
tree, and engraved upon the white wood certain 
hieroglyphics, to signify that they had invaded the 
territories of their enemies, the Dahcotahs, and set 
them at defiance. One morning a thick mist covered 
the whole country. Shaw and Henry went out to 



184 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ride, and soon came back with a startling piece of 
intelligence; they had found within rifle shot of our 
camp the recent trail of about thirty horsemen. They 
could not be whites, and they could not be Dah- 
cotahs, since we knew no such parties to be in the 
neighborhood; therefore they must be Crows. Thanks 
to that friendly mist, we had escaped a hard battle; 
they would inevitably have attacked us and our 
Indian companions had they seen our camp. What- 
ever doubts we might have entertained, were quite 
removed a day or two after, by two or three Dah- 
cotahs, who came to us with an account of having 
hidden in a ravine on that very morning, from whence 
they saw and counted the Crows; they said that they 
followed them, carefully keeping out of sight, as they 
passed up Chugwater;^ that here the Crows discovered 
five dead bodies of Dahcotahs, placed according to 
the national custom in trees, and flinging them to the 
ground, they held their guns against them and blew 
them to atoms. 

If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was 
comfortable enough; at least it was so to Shaw, for I 
was tormented with illness and vexed by the delay 
in the accomplishment of my designs. When a 
respite in my disorder gave me some returning 
strength, I rode out well-armed upon the prairie, or 
bathed with Shaw in the stream, or waged a petty 
warfare with the inhabitants of a neighboring prairie- 
dog village. Around our fire at night we employed 
ourselves in inveighing against the fickleness and incon- 



THE WAR PARTIES 185 

stancy of Indiajis, and execrating The Whirlwind and 
all his crew. At last the thing grew insufferable. 

"To-morrow morning/' said I, "I will start for the 
fort, and see if I can hear any news there." Late 
that evening, when the fire had sunk low, and all the 
camp were asleep, a loud cry sounded from the 
darkness. Henry started up, recognized the voice, 
replied to it, and our dandy friend, The Horse, rode 
in among us, just returned from his mission to the 
village. He coolly picketed his mare, without 
saying a w^ord, sat down by the fire .and began to 
eat, but his imperturbable philosophy was too much 
for our patience. Where was the village? — about 
fifty miles south of us; it was moving slowly and 
would not arrive in less than a week. And where 
was Henry's squaw? — coming as fast as she could 
with Mahto-Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, 
but she would never reach us, for she was dying, and 
asking every moment for Henry. Henry's manly 
face became clouded and downcast; he said that if 
we were willing he would go in the morning to find 
her, at which Shaw offered to accompany him. 

We saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal pro- 
tested vehemently against being left alone, with 
nobody but the two Canadians and the young In- 
dians, when enemies were in the neighborhood. 
Disregarding his complaints, we left him, and com- 
ing to the mouth of Chugwater, separated, Shaw and 
Henry turning to the right, up the bank of the stream, 
while I made for the fort. 



186 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Taking leave for a while of my friend and the un- 
fortunate squaw, I will relate by w^ay of episode what 
I saw and did at Fort Laramie. It was not more 
than eighteen miles distant, and I reached it in three 
hours. A shriveled little figure, wrapped from head 
to foot in a dingy w^hite Canadian capote, stood in 
the gateway, holding by a cord of bull's hide a shaggy 
w^ild horse, w^hich he had lately caught. His sharp 
prominent features, and his little keen snake-like 
eyes, looked out from beneath the shadowy hood of 
the capote, which was drawn over his head exactly 
like the cowl of a Capuchin friar. ^ His face was 
like an old piece of leather, and his mouth spread 
from ear to ear. Extending his long wdry hand, he 
welcomed me with something more cordial than the 
ordinary cold salute of an Indian, for we were ex- 
cellent friends. He had made an exchange of horses 
to our mutual advantage; and Paul, thinking himself 
well-treated, had declared everywhere that the 
white man had a good heart. He was a Dahcotah 
from the Missouri, a reputed son of the half-breed 
interpreter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in 
Irving's ^' Astoria."^ He said that he was going to 
Richard's trading house to sell his horse to some 
emigrants who were encamped there, and asked me 
to go with him. We forded the stream together, 
Paul dragging his wild charge behind him. As we 
passed over the sandy plains beyond, he grew com- 
municative. Paul was a cosmopolitan in his way; 
he had been to the settlements of the whites, and 



THE WAR PARTIES 187 

visited in peace and war most of the tribes within 
the range of a thousand miles. He spoke a jargon 
of French and another of English, yet nevertheless 
he was a thorough Indian; and as he told of the 
bloody deeds of his ow^n people against their enemies, 
his little eye would glitter with a fierce luster. He 
told how the Dahcotahs exterminated a village of 
the Hohays on the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, 
women, and children; and how an overwhelming- 
force of them cut off sixteen of the brave Delawares, 
who fought like wolves to the last, amid the throng 
of their enemies. He told me also another story, 
which I did not believe until I had heard it con- 
firmed from so many independent sources that my 
skepticism was almost overcome. 

Six years ago a fellow named Jim Beckwith, a 
mongrel of French, American, and negro blood, was 
trading for the Fur Company, in a very large village 
of the Crows. Jim Beckwith was last summer at 
St. Louis.- He is a ruffian of the first stamp; bloody 
and treacherous, without honor or honesty; such at 
least is the character he bears upon the prairie. 
Yet in his case all the standard rules of character 
fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will 
also perform most desperate acts of daring; such, for 
instance, as the following: While he was in the Crow 
village, a Blackfoot war party, between thirty and 
forty in number, came stealing through the country, 
killing stragglers and carrying off horses. The Crow 
warriors got upon their trail and pressed them so 



188 THE OREGON TRAIL 

closely that they could not escape, at which the 
Blackfeet, throwing up a semicircular breastwork 
of logs at the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their 
approach. The logs and sticks, piled four or five 
feet high, protected them in front. The Crows 
might have swept over the breastwork and exter- 
minated their enemies; but though out-numbering 
them tenfold, they did not dream of storming the 
little fortification. Such a proceeding would be 
altogether repugnant to their notions of warfare.. 
Whooping and yelling, and jumping from side to 
side like devils incarnate, they showered bullets and 
arrows upon the logs; not a Blackfoot was hurt, but 
several Crows,, in spite of their leaping and dodging, 
were shot down. In this childish manner the fight 
went on fqr an hour or two. Now and then a Crow 
warrior in an ecstasy of valor and vainglory would 
scream forth his war song, boasting himself the 
bravest and greatest of mankind, and grasping his 
hatchet, would rush up and strike it upon the breast- 
work, and then as he retreated to his companions, 
fall dead under a shower of arrows; yet no com- 
bined attack was made. The Blackfeet remained 
secure in their intrenchment. At last Jim Beck- 
with lost patience. 

"You are all fools and old women," he said to the 
Crows; " come with me, if any of you are brave 
enough, and I will show you how to fight." 

He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and 
stripped himself naked like the Indians themselves. 



THE WAR PARTIES 189 

He left his rifle on the ground, and taking in his hand 
a small light hatchet, he ran over the prairie to the 
right, concealed by a hollow from the eyes of the 
Blackfeet. Then climbing up the rocks, he gained 
the top of the precipice behind them. Forty or fifty 
young Crow warriors followed him. By the cries and 
whoops that rose from below he knew that the Black- 
feet were just beneath him; and running forward, 
he leaped down the rock into the midst of them. 
As he fell he caught one by the long loose hair, and 
dragging him down tomahawked him; then grasping 
another by the belt at his waist, he struck him also 
a stunning blow, and gaining his feet, shouted the 
Crow war-cry. He • swung his hatchet so fiercely 
around him that the astonished Blackfeet bore back 
and gave him room. He might, had he chosen, have 
leaped over the breastwork and escaped; but this 
was not necessary, for with devilish yells the Crow 
warriors came dropping in quick succession over the 
rock among their enemies. The main body of the 
Crows, too, answered the cry from the front, and 
rushed up simultaneously. The convulsive struggle 
within the breastwork was frightful; for an instant 
the Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers; 
but the butchery was soon complete, and the mangled 
bodies lay piled up together under the precipice. 
Not a Blackfoot made his escape. 

As Paul finished his story we came in sight of 
Richard's Fort, a disorderly crowd of men around it, 
and an emigrant camp a little in front. 



190 THE OREGON TRAIL 

"Now, Paul/' said I, "where are your Minnicon- 
gew lodges?" 

"Not come yet," said Paul, "maybe come to- 
morrow." 

Two large villages of a band of Dahcotahs had 
come three hundred miles from the Missouri, to join 
in the war, and they were expected to reach Richard's 
that morning. There was as yet no sign of their 
approach; so pushing through a noisy, drunken 
crowd, I entered an apartment of logs and mud, the 
largest in the fort; it was full of men of various races 
and complexions, all more or less drunk. A com- 
pany of California emigrants, it seemed, had made 
the discovery at this late day that they had en- 
cumbered themselves with too many supplies for 
their journey. A part, therefore, they had thrown 
away or sold at great loss to the traders, but had 
determined to get rid of their very copious stock of 
Missouri whisky by drinking it on the spot. Here 
were maudlin squaws stretched on piles of buffalo 
robes; squalid Mexicans, armed with bows and arrows; 
Indians sedately drunk; long-haired Canadians and 
trappers, and American backwoodsmen in brown 
homespun, the well-beloved pistol and bowie knife 
displayed openly at their sides. In the middle of 
the room a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth 
coat, was haranguing the company in the style of 
the stump orator. With one hand he sawed the 
air, atid with the other clutched firmly a brown jug 
of whisky, which he applied every moment to his 



THE WAR PARTIES 191 

lips, forgetting that he had drained the contents 
long ago. Richard formally introduced me to this 
personage, who was no less a man than Colonel R., 
once the leader of the party. Instantly the Colonel 
seizing, me, in the absence of buttons, by the leather 
fringes of my frock, began to define his position. 
His men, he said, had mutinied and deposed him; 
but still he exercised over them the influence of a 
superior mind; in all but the name he was yet their 
chief. As the Colonel spoke, I looked round on the 
wild assemblage, and could not help thinking that 
he was but ill qualified to conduct such men across 
the deserts to California. Conspicuous among the 
rest stood three tall young men, grandsons of Daniel 
Boone. They had clearly inherited the adventurous 
character of that prince of pioneers; but I saw no 
signs of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so remark- 
ably distinguished him. 

Fearful was the fate that months after overtook 
some of the members of that party. General Kearney, 
on his late return from California, brought back their 
story. They were interrupted by the deep snows 
among the mountains, and maddened by cold and 
hunger, fed upon each other's flesh! 

I got tired of the confusion. '^Come, Paul," said I, 
''we will be off." Paul sat in the sun, under the 
wall of the fort. He jumped up, mounted, and we 
rode toward Fort Laramie. When we reached it, 
a man came out of the gate with a pack at his back 
and a rifle on his shoulder; others were gathering 



192 THE OREGON TRAIL 

about him, shaking him by the hand, as if taking 
leave. 1 thought it a strange thing that a man 
should set out alone and on foot for the prairie. I 
soon got an explanation. Perrault — this, if I rec- 
ollect right, was the Canadian's name — had quarreled 
with the bourgeois, and the fort was too hot to hold 
him. Bordeaux, inflated with his transient authority, 
had abused him, and received a blow in return. 
The men then sprang at each other, and grappled 
in the middle of the fort. Bordeaux was down in 
an instant, at the mercy of the incensed Canadian; 
had not an old Indian, the brother of his squaw, 
seized hold of his antagonist, it would have fared ill 
with him. Perrault broke loose from the old Indian, 
and both the white men ran to their rooms for their 
guns; but when Bordeaux, looking from his door, 
saw the Canadian, gun in hand, standing in the area 
and calling on him to come out and fight, his heart 
failed him; he chose to remain where he was. In 
vain the old Indian, scandalized by his brother-in- 
law's cowardice, called upon him to go upon the 
prairie and fight it out in the white man's manner; 
and Bordeaux's own squaw, equally incensed, 
screamed to her lord and master that he was a dog 
and an old woman. It all availed nothing. Bor- 
deaux's prudence got the better of his valor, and he 
would not stir. Perrault stood showering opprobri- 
ous epithets at the recreant bourgeois, till, growing 
tired of this, he made up a pack of dried meat, and 
slinging it at his back, set out alone for Fort Pierre^ 



THE WAR PARTIES 193 

on the Missouri, a distance of three hundred miles, 
over a desert country full of hostile Indians. 

I remained in the fort that night. In the morn- 
ing, as I was coming out from breakfast, conversing 
with a trader named McCluskey, I saw a strange 
Indian leaning against the side of the gate. He was 
a tall, strong man, with heavy features. 
^^'Who is he?" I asked. 

"That's The Whirlwind," said McCluskey. "He 
is the fellow that made all this stir about the war. 
It's always the way with the Sioux; they never stop 
cutting each other's throats; it's all they are fit for,; 
instead of sitting in their lodges, and getting robes 
to trade with us in the winter. If this war goes 
on, we'll make a poor trade of it next season, I 
reckon." 

And this was the opinion of all the traders, who 
were vehemently opposed to the war, from the injury 
that it must occasion to their interests. The Whirl- 
wind left his village the day before to make a visit to 
the fort. His warlike ardor had abated not a little 
since he first conceived the design of avenging his 
son's death. The long and complicated preparations 
for the expedition were too much for his fickle dis- 
position. That morning Bordeaux fastened upon 
him, made him presents, and told him that if he went 
to war he would destroy his horses and kill no buffalo 
to trade with the white men; in short, that he was a 
fool to think of such a thing, and had better make up 
his mind to sit quietly in his lodge and smoke his pipe, 



194 THE OREGON TRAIL 

like a wise man. The Whirlwind's purpose was 
evidently shaken; he had become tired, like a child, of 
his favorite plan. Bordeaux exultingly predicted 
that he would not go to war. My philanthropy was 
no match for my curiosity, and I was vexed at the 
possibility that after all I might lose the rare oppor- 
tunity of seeing the ceremonies of war. The Whirl- 
wind, however, had merely thrown the firebrand; the 
conflagration was become general. All the western 
bands of the Dahcotahs were bent on war; and as I 
heard from McCluskey, six large villages were already 
gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, and 
were daily calling to the Great Spirit to aid them in 
their enterprise. McCluskey had just left them and 
represented them as on their way to La Bonte's camp, 
which they would reach in a week, unless they should 
learn that there were no buffalo there. I did not like 
this condition, for buffalo this season were rare in the 
neighborhood. There were also the two Minnicongew 
villages that I mentioned before; but about noon, an 
Indian came from Richard's Fort with the news that 
they were quarreling, breaking up, and dispersing. 
So much for the whisky of the emigrants! Finding 
themselves unable to drink the whole, they had sold 
the residue to these Indians, and it needed no prophet 
to foretell the result; a spark dropped into a powder 
magazine would not have produced a quicker effect. 
Instantly the old jealousies and rivalries and smothered 
feuds that exist in an Indian village broke out into 
furious quarrels. They forgot the warlike enterprise 



THE WAR PARTIES 195 

that had already brought them three hundred miles. 
They seemed like ungoverned children inflamed 
with the fiercest passions of men. Several of them 
were stabbed in the drunken tumult; and in the 
morning they scattered and moved back toward the 
Missouri in small parties. I feared that, after all, 
the long-projected meeting and the ceremonies that 
were to attend it might never take place, and I should 
lose so admirable an opportunity of seeing the Indian 
under his most fearful and characteristic aspect; 
however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very fair 
probability of being plundered and stripped, and, it 
might be, stabbed or shot into the bargain. Consoling 
myself with this reflection, I prepared to carry the 
news, such as it was, to the camp. 

I caught my horse, and to my vexation found he 
had lost a shoe and broken his hoof against the rocks. 
Horses are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate 
rate of three dollars a foot; so I tied Hendrick to a 
beam in the corral, and summoned Roubidou, the 
blacksmith. Roubidou, with the hoof between his 
knees, was at work with hammer and file, and I was 
inspecting the process, when a strange voice ad- 
dressed me. 

^^Two more gone under! Well, there's more of us 
left yet. Here's Jean Gras and me off to the moun- 
tains to-morrow. Our turn will come next, I suppose. 
It's a hard life, anyhow!" 

I looked up and saw a man, not much more than 
five feet high, but of very square and strong propor- 



196 THE OREGON TRAIL 

tions. In appearance he was particularly dingy; 
for his old buckskin frock was black and polished 
with time and grease, and his belt, knife, pouch, and 
powder-horn appeared to have seen the roughest 
service. The first joint of each foot was entirely 
gone, having been frozen off several winters before, 
and his moccasins were curtailed in proportion. His 
whole appearance and equipment bespoke the ''free 
trapper." He had a round ruddy face, animated 
with a spirit of carelessness and gayety not at all in 
accordance with the words he had just spoken. 

''Two more gone?" said I; "what do you mean by 
that?" 

"Oh, the Arapahoes have just killed two of us in 
the mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. 
They stabbed one behind his back, and shot the other 
with his own rifle. That's the way we live here! I 
mean to give up trapping after this year. My squaw 
says she wants a pacing horse and some red ribbons; 
I '11 make enough beaver to get them for her, and then 
I'm done! I'll go below and live on a farm." 

"Your bones will dry on the prairie. Rouleau!" 
said another trapper, who was standing by; a strong, 
brutal-looking fellow, with a face as surly as a bull- 
dog's. 

Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune 
and shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. 

"You'll see us, before long, passing up your way," 
said the other man. 

"Well," said I, "stop and take a cup of coffee with 



THE WAR PARTIES 197 

us;" and as it was quite late in the afternoon, I pre- 
pared to leave the fort at once. 

As 1 rode out, a train of emigrant wagons was 
passing across the stream. "Whar are ye goin', 
stranger?" Thus I was saluted by two or three 
voices at once. 

"About eighteen miles up the creek." 

'^It's mighty late to be going that far! Make 
haste, ye'd better, and keep a bright lookout for 
Indians!" 

I thought the advice too good to be neglected. 
Fording the stream, I passed at a round trot over the 
plains beyond. But "the more haste, the worse 
speed." I proved the truth of the proverb by the 
time I reached the hills three miles from the fort. 
The trail was faintly marked, and riding forward 
with more rapidity than caution, I lost sight of it. I 
kept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie Creek, 
which I could see at intervals darkly glistening in the 
evening sun, at the bottom of the woody gulf on my 
right. Half an hour before sunset I came upon its 
banks. There was something exciting in the wild 
solitude of the place. An antelope sprang suddenly 
from the sage-bushes before me. As he leaped grace- 
fully not thirty yards before my horse, I fired, and 
instantly he spun round and fell. Quite sure of him, 
I walked my horse toward him, leisurely reloading 
my rifle, when to my surprise he sprang up and trotted 
rapidly away on three legs into the dark recesses of 
the hills, whither I had no time to follow. Ten 



19S THE OREGON TRAIL 

minutes after, I was passing along the bottom of a 
deep valley, and chancing to look behind me, I saw 
in the dim light that something was following. Sup- 
posing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat 
down behind my horse to shoot it; but as it came up, 
I saw by its motions that it was another antelope. 
It approached within a hundred yards, arched its 
graceful neck, and gazed intently. I leveled at the 
white spot on its chest, and was about to fire, when it 
started off, ran first to one side and then to the other, 
like a vessel tacking against a wind, and at last 
stretched away at full speed. Then it stopped again, 
looked curiously behind it, and trotted up as before; 
but not so boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing 
at me. I fired; it leaped upward and fell upon its 
tracks. Measuring the distance, I found it two 
hundred and four paces. When I stood by his side, the 
antelope turned his expiring eye upward. It was 
like a beautiful w^oman's, dark and bright. ^'For- 
tunate that I am in a hurry," thought I; "I might 
be troubled with remorse, if I had time for it." 

Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful 
manner, I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, 
and rode on again. The hills (I could not remember 
one of them) closed around me. "It is too late," 
thought I, "to go forward. I will stay here to-night, 
and look for the path in the morning." As a last 
effort, however, I ascended a high hill, from which, 
to my great satisfaction, I could see Laramie Creek 
stretching before me, twisting from side to side amid 



THE WAR PARTIES 199 

ragged patches of timber; and far off, close beneath 
the shadows of the trees, the ruins of the old trading 
fort were visible. I reached them at twilight. It 
was far from pleasant, in that uncertain light, to be 
pushing through the dense trees and shrubbery of 
the grove beyond. I listened anxiously for the foot- 
fall of man or beast. Nothing was stirring but one 
harmless brown bird, chirping among the branches. 
I was glad when I gained the open prairie once more, 
where 1 could see if anything approached. When I 
came to the mouth of Chugwater, it was totally dark. 
Slackening the reins, I let my horse take his own 
course. He trotted on with unerring instinct, and 
by nine o'clock was scrambling down the steep 
descent into the meadows where we were encamped. 
While I was looking in vain for the light of the fire, 
Hendrick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud neigh, 
which was immediately answered in a shrill note from 
the distance. In a moment I was hailed from the 
darkness by the voice of Reynal, who had come out, 
rifle in hand, to see who was approaching. 

He, with his squaw, the two Canadians and the 
Indian boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw 
and Henry Chatillon being still absent. At noon of 
the following day they came back, their horses look- 
ing none the better for the journey. Henry seemed 
dejected. The woman was dead, and his children 
must henceforward be exposed, without a protector, 
to the hardships and vicissitudes of Indian life. Even 
in the midst of his grief he had not forgotten his 



200 THE OREGON TRAIL 

attachment to his bourgeois, for he had procured 
among his Indian relatives two beautifully orna- 
mented buffalo robes, which he spread on the ground 
as a present to us. 

Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words 
the history of his journey. When I went to the fort 
they left me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chug- 
water. They followed the course of the little stream 
all day, traversing a desolate and barren country. 
Several times they came upon the fresh traces of a 
large war party — the same, no doubt, from whom we 
had so narrowly escaped an attack. At an hour 
before sunset, without encountering a human being 
by the way, they came upon the lodges of the squaw 
and her brothers, who, in compliance with Henry's 
message, had left the Indian village in order to join 
us at our camp. The lodges were already pitched, 
five in number, by the side of the stream. The 
woman lay in one of them, reduced to a mere skeleton. 
For some time she had been unable to move or speak. 
Indeed, nothing had kept her alive but the hope of 
seeing Henry, to whom she was strongly and faith- 
fully attached. No sooner did he enter the lodge 
than she revived, and conversed with him the greater 
part of the night. Early in the morning she was 
lifted into a traineau, and the whole party set out 
toward our camp. There were but five warriors; the 
rest were women and children. The whole were in 
great alarm at the proximity of the Crow war party, 
who would certainly have destroyed them without 



THE WAR PARTIES 201 

mercy had they met. They had advanced only a 
mile or two, when they discerned a horseman, far off, 
on the edge of the horizon. They all stopped, gath- 
ering together in the greatest anxiety, from which 
they did not recover until long after the horseman 
disappeared; then they set out again. Henry was 
riding with Shaw a few rods in advance of the Indians, 
when Mahto-Tatonka, a younger brother of the 
woman, hastily called after them. Turning back, 
they found all the Indians crowded around the 
traineau in which the woman was lying. They 
reached her just in time to hear the death-rattle in 
her throat. In a moment she lay dead in the basket 
of the vehicle. A complete stillness succeeded; then 
the Indians raised in concert their cries of lamentation 
over the corpse, and among them Shaw clearly dis- 
tinguished those strange sounds resembling the word 
" Halleluyah," which together with some other acci- 
dental coincidences has given rise to the absurd theory 
that the Indians are descended from the ten lost 
tribes of Israel. 

The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as 
the other relatives of the woman, should make valu- 
able presents, to be placed by the side of the body at 
its last resting-place. Leaving the Indians, he and 
Shaw set out for the camp and reached it, as we have 
seen, by hard pushing, at about noon. Having 
obtained the necessary articles, they immediately 
returned. It was very late and quite dark when 
they again reached the lodges. They were all placed 



202 THE OREGON TRAIL 

in a deep hollow among dreary hills. Four of them 
were just visible through the gloom, but the fifth 
and largest was illuminated by the ruddy blaze of a 
fire within, glowing through the half-transparent 
covering of rawhides. There was a perfect stillness 
as they approached. The lodges seemed without a 
tenant. Not a living thing was stirring — there was 
something awful in the scene. They rode up to the 
entrance of the lodge, and there was no sound but 
the tramp of their horses. A squaw came out and 
took charge of the animals, without speaking a word. 
Entering, they found the lodge crowded with Indians; 
a fire was burning in the midst, and the mourners 
encircled it in a triple row. Room was made for the 
newcomers at the head of the lodge, a robe spread 
for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed 
to them in perfect silence. Thus they passed the 
greater part of the night. At times the fire would 
subside into a heap of embers, until the dark figure? 
seated around it were scarcely visible; then a squaw 
would drop upon it a piece of buffalo-fat, and a bright 
flame, instantly springing up, would reveal on a 
sudden the crowd of wild faces, motionless as bronze. 
The silence continued unbroken. It was a relief to 
Shaw when daylight returned and he could escape 
from this house of mourning. He and Henry pre- 
pared to return homeward; first, however, they placed 
the presents they had brought near the body of the 
squaw, which, most gaudily attired, remained in a 
sitting posture in one of the lodges. A fine horse was 



THE WAR PARTIES 203 

picketed not far off, destined to be killed that morn- 
ing for the service of her spirit, for the woman was 
lame, and could not travel on foot over the dismal 
prairies to the villages of the dead. Food, too, was 
provided, and household implements, for her use 
upon this last journey. 

Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came 
immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was some 
time before he entirely recovered from his dejection. 



CHAPTER XI 

Scenes at the Camp 

Fierce are Albania's children; yet they lack 
Not virtues, were those virtues more mature. 
Where is the foe that ever saw their back? 
Who can so well the toil of war endure? 

Childe Harold. 

Reynal heard guns fired one day, at the distance of 
a mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous 
instantly. Visions of Crow war parties began to 
haunt his imagination; and when we returned (for 
we were all absent), he renewed his complaints about 
being left alone with the Canadians and the squaw. 
The day after, the cause of the alarm appeared. 
Four trappers, one called Moran, another Saraphin, 
and the others nicknamed ^'Rouleau" and ^'Jean 
Gras," came to our camp and joined us. They it was 
who fired the guns and disturbed the dreams of our 
confederate, Reynal. They soon encamped by our 
side. Their rifles, dingy and battered with hard 
service, rested with ours against the old tree; their 
strong rude saddles, their buffalo robes, their traps, 
and the few rough and simple articles of their travel- 

204 



SCENES AT. THE CAMP 205 

ing equipment, were piled near our tent. Their 
mountain horses were turned to graze in the meadow 
among our own; and the men themselves, no less 
rough and hardy, used to lie half the day in the shade 
of our tree lolling on the grass, lazily smoking, and 
telling stories of their adventures; and I defy the 
annals of chivalry to furnish the record of a life more 
wild and perilous than that of a Rocky Mountain 
trapper. 

With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of 
Reynal's nerves subsided. He began to conceive a 
sort of attachment to our old camping ground; yet it 
was time to change our quarters, since remaining too 
long on one spot must lead to certain unpleasant 
results not to be borne with unless in a case of dire 
necessity. The grass no longer presented a smooth 
surface of turf; it was trampled into mud and clay. 
So we removed to another old tree, larger yet, that 
grew by the river side at a furlong's distance. Its 
trunk was full six feet in diameter; on one side it was 
marked by a party of Indians with various inexplicable 
hieroglyphics, commemorating some warlike enter- 
prise, and aloft among the branches were the remains 
of a scaffolding, where dead bodies had once been 
deposited, after the Indian manner. 

"There comes Bull-Bear," said Henry Chatillon, 
as we sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw 
several horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, 
and in a moment four stately young men rode up 
and dismounted. One of them was Bull- Bear, or 



206 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Mahto-Tatonka, a compound name which he inherited 
from his father, the most powerful chief in the 
Ogallallah band. One of his brothers and two other 
young men accompanied him. We shook hands with 
the visitors, and when we had finished our meal — for 
this is the orthodox manner of entertaining Indians, 
even the best of them — we handed to each a tin cup 
of coffee and a biscuit, at which they ejaculated from 
the bottom of their throats, *'How! how!" a mono- 
syllable by which an Indian contrives to express half 
the emotions that he is susceptible of. Then we 
lighted the pipe, and passed it to them as they 
squatted on the ground. 

'^Whei-e is the village?" 

"There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing south- 
ward; "it will come in two days." 

"Will they go to the war?" 

"Yes." 

No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We 
welcomed this news most cordially, and congratulated 
ourselves that Bordeaux's interested efforts to divert 
The Whirlwind from his congenial vocation of blood- 
shed had failed of success, and that no additional 
obstacles would interpose between us and our plan of 
repairing to the rendezvous at La Bonte's camp. 

For that and several succeeding days, Mahto- 
Tatonka and his friends remained our guests. They 
devoured the relics of our meals; they filled the pipe 
for us and also helped us to smoke it. Sometimes 
they lay basking in the hot sun. Sometimes they 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 207 

stretched themselves side by side in the shade, indulg- 
ing in raillery and practical jokes ill becoming the 
dignity of brave and aspiring warriors, such as two 
of them in reality were. 

Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the 
third we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. 
It did not come; so we rode out to look for it. In 
place of the eight hundred Indians we expected, we 
met one solitary savage riding toward us over the 
prairie, who told us that the Indians had changed 
their plans, and would not come within three days; 
still he persisted that they were going to the war. 
Taking along with us this messenger of evil tidings, 
we retraced our footsteps to the camp, amusing our- 
selves by the way with execrating Indian inconstancy. 
When we came in sight of our little white tent under 
the big tree, we saw that it no longer stood alone. A 
huge old lodge was erected close by its side, discolored 
by rain and storms, rotten with age, with the uncouth 
figures of horses and men and outstretched hands 
that were painted upon it, well-nigh obliterated. 
The long poles which supported this squalid habita- 
tion thrust themselves rakishly out from its pointed 
top, and over its entrance were suspended a '^ medicine 
pipe" and various other implements of the magic art. 
While we were yet at a distance, we observed a greatly 
increased population of various colors and dimensions, 
swarming around our quiet encampment. Moran, 
the trapper, having been absent for a day of two, had 
returned, it seemed, bringing all his family with him. 



208 THE OREGON TRAIL 

He had taken to himself a wife for whom he had paid 
the established price of one horse. This, reader, 
looks cheap at first sight, but in truth the purchase 
of a squaw is a transaction which no man should 
enter into without mature deliberation, since it 
involves not only the payment of the first price, but 
the formidable burden of feeding and supporting a 
rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, who hold 
themselves entitled to feed upon the indiscreet white 
man. They gather round like leeches, and drain 
him of all he has. 

Moran, like Reynal, had not allied himself to an 
aristocratic circle. His relatives occupied but a con- 
temptible position in Ogallallah society; for among 
these wild democrats of the prairie, as among us, 
there are virtual distinctions of rank and place; 
though this great advantage they have over us, that 
wealth has no part in determining such distinctions. 
Moran 's partner was not the most beautiful of her 
sex, and he had the exceedingly bad taste to array 
her in an old calico gown bought from an emigrant 
woman, instead of the neat and graceful tunic of 
whitened deerskin worn ordinarily by the squaws. 
The moving spirit of the establishment, in more 
senses than one, was a hideous old hag of eighty. 
Human imagination never conceived hobgoblin or 
witch more ugly than she. You could count all her 
ribs through the wrinkles of the leathery skin that 
covered them. Her withered face more resembled an 
old skull than the countenance of a living being, even 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 209 

to the hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom of 
which glittered her little black eyes. Her arms had 
dwindled away into nothing but whipcord and wire. 
Her hair, half black, half gray, hung in total neglect 
nearly to the ground, and her sole garment consisted 
of the remnant of a discarded buffalo robe tied round 
her waist with a string of hide. Yet the old squaw's 
meager anatomy was wonderfully strong. She pitched 
the lodge, packed the horses, and did the hardest 
labor of the camp. From morning till night she 
bustled about the lodge, screaming like a screech-owl 
when anything displeased her. Then there was her 
brother, a ^^ medicine-man,'^ or magician, equally 
gaunt and sinewy with herself. His mouth spread 
from ear to ear, and his appetite, as we had full 
occasion to learn, was ravenous in proportion. The 
other inmates of the lodge were a young bride and 
bridegroom; the latter one of those idle, good-for- 
nothing fellows who infest an Indian village as well 
as more civilized communities. He was fit neither 
for hunting nor for war; and one might infer as much 
from the stolid unmeaning expression of his face. 
The happy pair had just entered upon the honeymoon. 
They would stretch a buffalo robe upon poles, so as 
to protect them from the fierce rays of the sun, and 
spreading beneath this rough canopy a luxuriant 
couch of furs, would sit affectionately side by side 
for half the day, though I could not discover that 
much conversation passed between them. Probably 
they had nothing to say; for an Indian's supply of 



210 THE OREGON TRAIL 

topics for conversation is far from being copious. 
There were half a dozen children, too, playing and 
whooping about the camp, shooting birds with little 
bows and arrows, or making miniature lodges of 
sticks, as children of a different complexion build 
houses of blocks. 

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come 
in. Parties of two or three or half a dozen would ride 
up and silently seat themselves on the grass. The 
fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen 
suddenly appeared into view on the summit of the 
neighboring ridge. They descended, and behind 
them followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste 
and disorder down the hill and over the plain below; 
horses, mules, and dogs, heavily burdened travaux, 
mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, 
and a host of children, swarming over the hill-side. 
For a full half-hour they continued to pour down; 
and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, 
within a furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a 
dark and confused throng, until, as if by magic, a 
hundred and fifty tall lodges sprung up. On a sudden 
the lonely plain was transformed into the site of a 
miniature city. Countless horses w^ere soon grazing 
over the meadows around us, and the whole prairie 
was animated by restless figures careering on horse- 
back, or sedately stalking in their long white robes. 
The Whirlwind was come at last! One question yet 
remained to be answered: '^Will he go to the war, in 
order that we, with so respectable an escort, may pass 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 211 

over to the somewhat perilous rendezvous at La 
Bonte's camp?" 

Still this remained in doubt. Characteristic inde- 
cision perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act 
in large bodies. Though their object be of the high- 
est importance, they cannot combine to attain it by 
a series of connected efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, 
and Tecumseh^ all felt this to their cost. The Ogal- 
lallahs once had a war chief who could control them; 
but he was dead, and now they were left to the sway 
of their own unsteady impulses. 

This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a 
prominent place in the rest of the narrative, and per- 
haps it may not be amiss to glance for an instant at 
the savage people of which they form a part. The 
Dahcotahs (I prefer this national designation to the 
unmeaning French name, Sioux) range over a vast 
territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky 
Mountains themselves. They are divided into several 
independent bands, united under no central govern- 
ment, and acknowledge no common head. The 
same language, usages, and superstitions form the 
sole bond between them. They do not unite even in 
their wars. The bands of the east fight the Ojibwas 
on the Upper Lakes; those of the west make incessant 
war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Mountains. 
As the whole people is divided into bands, so each 
band is divided into villages. Each village has a 
chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his 
personal qualities may command respect and fear. 



212 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Sometimes he is a mere nominal chief; sometimes his 
authority is little short of absolute, and his fame and 
influence reach even beyond his own village; so that 
the whole band to which he belongs is ready to 
acknowledge him as their head. This was, a few 
years since, the case with the Ogallallahs. Courage, 
address, and enterprise may raise any warrior to the 
highest honor, especially if he be the son of a former 
chief, or a member of a numerous family, to support 
him and avenge his quarrels; but when he has reached 
the dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, 
by a peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, 
let it not be imagined that he assumes any of the 
outward semblances of rank and honor. He knows 
too well on how frail a tenure he holds his station. 
He must conciliate his uncertain subjects. Many a 
man in the village lives better, owns more squaws and 
more horses, and goes better clad than he. Like the 
Teutonic chiefs of old, he ingratiates himself with his 
young men by making them presents, thereby often 
impoverishing himself. Does he fail in gaining their 
favor, they will set his authority at naught, and may 
desert him at any moment; for the usages of his 
people have provided no sanctions by which he may 
enforce his authority. Very seldom does it happen, 
at least among these western bands, that a chief 
attains to much power, unless he is the head of a 
numerous family. Frequently the village is prin- 
cipally made up of his relatives and descendants, and 
the wandering community assumes much of the patri- 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 213 

archal character. A people so loosely united, torn, 
too, with rankling feuds and jealousies, can have 
little power or efficiency. 

The western Dahcotahs have no fixed habitations. 
Hunting and fighting, they wander incessantly through 
summer and winter. Some are following the herds 
of buffalo over the waste of prairie; others are travers- 
ing the Black Hills, thronging on horseback and on 
foot through the dark gulfs and somber gorges 
beneath the vast splintering precipices, and emerging 
at last upon the ^^ Parks," those beautiful but most 
perilous hunting-grounds. The buffalo supplies them 
with almost all the necessaries of life; with habita- 
tions, food, clothing, and fuel; with strings for their 
bows, with thread, cordage, and trail-ropes for their 
horses, with coverings for their saddles, with vessels 
to hold water, with boats to cross streams, with glue, 
and with the means of purchasing all that they desire 
from the traders. When the buffalo are extinct, 
they too must dwindle away. 

War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most 
of the neighboring tribes they cherish a deadly, 
rancorous hatred, transmitted from father to son, 
and inflamed by constant aggression and retaliation. 
Many times a year, in every village, the Great Spirit 
is called upon, fasts are made, the war parade is cele- 
brated, and the w^arriors go out by handfuls at a time 
against the enemy. This fierce and evil spirit 
awakens their most eager aspirations, and calls forth 
their greatest energies. It is chiefly this that saves 



214 THE OREGON TRAIL 

them from lethargy and utter abasement. Without 
its powerful stimulus they would be like the unwar- 
like tribes beyond the mountains, who are scattered 
among the caves and rocks like beasts, living on roots 
and reptiles. These latter have little of humanity 
except the form; but the proud and ambitious Dah- 
cotah warrior can sometimes boast of heroic virtues. 
It is very seldom that distinction and influence are 
attained among them by any other course than that 
of arms. Their superstition, however, sometimes 
gives great power to those among them who pretend 
to the character of magicians. Their wild hearts, too, 
can feel the power of oratory, and yield deference to 
the masters of it. 

But to return. Look into our tent, reader, or 
enter, if you can bear the stifling smoke and the close 
atmosphere. There, wedged close together, you will 
see a circle of stout warriors, passing the pipe around, 
joking, telling stories, and making themselves merry, 
after their fashion. We were also infested by little 
copper-colored naked boys and snake-eyed girls. 
They would come up to us, muttering certain words, 
which being interpreted conveyed the concise invita- 
tion, "Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing 
the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitality, which 
allowed scarcely an hour of rest between sun and sun, 
and to which we were bound to do honor, unless we 
would offend our entertainers. This necessity was 
particularly burdensome to me, as I was scarcely able 
to walk, from the effects of illness, and was of course 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 215 

poorly qualified to dispose of twenty meals a day. 
Of these sumptuous banquets I gave a specimen in a 
former chapter, where the tragical fate of the little 
dog was chronicled; therefore no more of them, just 
at present. The recollection is quite sufficient, and 
I would be fain excused from the details. So bounte- 
ous an entertainment looks like an outgushing of 
good will; but doubtless one-half at least of our kind 
hosts, had they met us alone and unarmed on the 
prairie, would have robbed us of our horses, and per- 
chance have bestowed an arrow upon us beside. 
Trust not an Indian. Let your rifle be ever in your 
hand. Wear next your heart the old chivalric motto, 
Semper Paratus.^ 

One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an 
old man, in good truth the Nestor^ of his tribe. We 
found him half sitting, half reclining on a pile of 
buffalo robes; his long hair^ jet-black even now, 
though he had seen some eighty winters, hung on 
either side of his thin features. Those most conver- 
sant with Indians in their homes will scarcely believe 
me when I affirm that there was dignity in his counte- 
nance and mien. His gaunt but symmetrical frame 
did not more clearly exhibit the wreck of bygone 
strength than did his dark, wasted features, still 
prominent and commanding, bear the stamp of 
mental energies. I recalled, as I saw him, the elo- 
quent metaphor of the Iroquois sachem: "I am an 
aged hemlock; the winds of a hundred winters have 
whistled through my branches, and I am dead at the 



216 THE OREGON TRAIL 

top!" Opposite the patriarch was his nephew, the 
young aspirant Mahto-Tatonka; and besides these, 
there were one or two women in the lodge. 

The old man's story is peculiar, and singularly 
illustrative of a superstitious custom that prevails in 
full force among many of the Indian tribes. He was 
one of a powerful family, renowned for their warlike 
exploits. AVhen a very young man, he submitted to 
the singular rite to which most of the tribe subject 
themselves before entering upon life. He painted 
his face black; then seeking out a cavern in a seques- 
tered part of the Black Hills, he lay for several days, 
fasting and praying to the Great Spirit. In the 
dreams and visions produced by his weakened and 
excited state, he fancied, like all Indians, that he saw 
supernatural revelations. Again and again, the form 
of an antelope appeared before him. The antelope is 
the graceful peace spirit of the Ogallallahs; but seldom 
is it that such a gentle visitor presents itself during 
the initiatory fasts of their young men. The terrible 
grizzly bear, the divinity of war, usually appears to 
fire them with martial ardor and thirst for renown. 
At length the antelope spoke. He told the young 
dreamer that he was not to follow the path of war; 
that a life of peace and tranquillity was marked out 
for him; that henceforward he was to guide the people 
by his counsels and protect them from the evils of 
their own feuds and dissensions. Others were to gain 
renown by fighting the enemy; but greatness of a 
different kind was in store for him. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 217 

The visions beheld during the period of this fast 
usually determine the whole course of the dreamer's 
life, for an Indian is bound by his iron superstitions. 
From that time, Le Borgne,^ which was the only 
name by which we knew him, abandoned all thoughts 
of war and devoted himself to the labors of peace. 
He told his vision to the people. They honored his 
commission and respected him in his novel capacity. 

A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Ta- 
tonka, who had transmitted his names, his features, 
and many of his characteristic qualities to his son. 
He was the father of Henry Chatillon's squaw, a 
circumstance which proved of some advantage to us, 
as securing for us the friendship of a family perhaps 
the most distinguished and powerful in the whole 
Ogallallah band. Mahto-Tatonka, in his savage way, 
was a hero. No chief could vie with him in warlike 
renown, or in power over his people. He had a 
fearless spirit, and a most impetuous and inflexible 
resolution. His will was law. He was politic and 
sagacious, and with true Indian craft he always 
befriended the whites, well knowing that he might 
thus reap great advantages for himself and his adher- 
ents. When he had resolved on any course of conduct, 
he would pay to the warriors the empty compliment 
of calling them together to deliberate upon it, and 
when their debates were over, he would quietly state 
his own opinion, which no one ever disputed. The 
consequences of thwarting his imperious will were too 
formidable to be encountered. Woe to those who 



218 THE OREGON TRAIL 

incurred his displeasure! He would strike them or 
stab them on the spot; and this act, which, if attempted 
by any other chief, would instantly have cost him his 
life, the awe inspired by his name enabled him to 
repeat again and again with impunity.^ In a com- 
munity where, from immemorial time, no man has 
acknowledged any law but his own will, Mahto- 
Tatonka, by the force of his dauntless resolution, 
raised himself to power little short of despotic. His 
haughty career came at last to an end. He had a 
host of enemies only waiting for their opportunity of 
revenge, and our old friend Smoke, in particular, 
together with all his kinsmen, hated him most cor- 
dially. Smoke sat one day in his lodge in the midst of 
his own village, when Mahto-Tatonka entered it alone, 
and approaching the dwelling of his enemy, called on 
him in a loud voice to come out, if he were a man, 
and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, Mahto- 
Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old woman, 
and striding close to the entrance of the lodge, stabbed 
the chief's best horse, which was picketed there. 
Smoke was daunted, and even this insult failed to call 
him forth. Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily away; 
all made way for him, but his hour of reckoning was 
near. 

One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges 
of Smoke's kinsmen were gathered around some of 
the Fur Company's men, who were trading in various 
articles with them, whisky among the rest. Mahto- 
Tatonka was also there with a few of his people. As 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 219 

he lay in his own lodge, a fray arose between his 
adherents and the kinsmen of his enemy. The war- 
whoop was raised, bullets and arrows began to fly, 
and the camp was in confusion. The chief sprang 
up, and rushing in a fury from the lodge shouted to 
the combatants on both sides to cease. Instantly — 
for the attack was preconcerted — came the reports 
of two or three guns, and the twanging of a dozen 
bows, and the savage hero, mortally wounded, 
pitched forward headlong to the ground. Rouleau 
was present, and told me the particulars. The 
tumult became general, and was not quelled until 
several had fallen on both sides. When we were in 
the country the feud between the two families was 
still rankling, and not likely soon to cease. 

Thus died Mahto-Tatonka, but he left behind him 
a goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his 
renown and avenge his fate. Besides daughters he 
had thirty sons, a number which need not stagger 
the credulity of those who are best acquainted with 
Indian usages and practices. We saw a dozen or 
more of them, all marked by the same dark complexion 
and the same peculiar cast of features. Of these our 
visitor, young Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and 
some reported him as likely to succeed to his father's 
honors. Though 1 should think him not more than 
twenty-one years old, he had oftener struck the 
enemy, and stolen more horses and more squaws 
than any young man in the village. We of the 
civilized world are not apt to attach much credit to 



220 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the latter species of exploits; but horse-stealing is 
well known as an avenue to distinction on the prairies, 
and the other kind of depredation is esteemed equally 
meritorious. Not that the act can confer fame from 
its own intrinsic merits. Any one can steal a squaw, 
and if he chooses afterward to make an adequate 
present to her rightful proprietor, the easy husband 
for the most part rests content, his vengeance falls 
asleep, and all danger from that quarter is averted. 
Yet this is esteemed but a pitiful and mean-spirited 
transaction. The danger is averted, but the glory of 
the achievement also is lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded 
after a more gallant and dashing fashion. Out of 
several dozen squaws whom he had stolen, he could 
boast that he had never paid for one, but snapping 
his fingers in the face of the injured husband, had 
defied the extremity of his indignation, and no one 
yet had dared to lay the finger of violence upon him. 
He was following close in the footsteps of his father. 
The young men and the young squaws, each in their 
way, admired him. The one would always follow 
him to war, and he was esteemed to have an unrivaled 
charm in the eyes of the other. Perhaps his impunity 
may excite some wonder. An arrow shot from a 
ravine, a stab given in the dark, require no great 
valor, and are especially suited to the Indian genius; 
but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong protection. It was 
not alone his courage and audacious will that enabled 
him to career so dashingly among his compeers. His 
enemies did not forget that he was one of thirty war- 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 221 

like brethren, all growing up to manhood. Should 
they wreak their anger upon him, twenty-nine keen 
eyes would be ever upon them, twenty-nine fierce 
hearts would thirst for their blood. The avenger 
would dog their footsteps everywhere. To kill 
Mahto-Tatonka would be no better than an act of 
suicide. 

Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, 
he was no dandy. As among us those of highest 
worth and breeding are most simple in manner and 
attire, so our aspiring young friend was indifferent to 
the gaudy trappings and ornaments of his companions. 
He was content to rest his chances of success upon 
his own warlike merits. He never arrayed himself 
in gaudy blanket and glittering necklaces, but left his 
statue-like form, limbed like an Apollo of bronze, to 
win its own way to favor. His voice was singularly 
deep and strong. It sounded from his chest like the 
deep notes of an organ. Yet after all, he was but an 
Indian. See him as he lies there in the sun before 
our tent, kicking his heels in the air and cracking 
jokes with his brother. Does he look like a hero? 
See him now in the hour of his glory, when at sunset 
the whole village empties itself to behold him, for 
to-morrow their favorite young partisan goes out 
against the enemy. His superb headdress is adorned 
with a crest of the war-eagle's feathers, rising in a 
waving ridge above his brow, and sweeping far 
behind him. His round white shield hangs at his 
breast, with feathers radiating from the center like a 



222 THE OREGON TRAIL 

star. His quiver is at his back; his tall lance in his 
hand, the iron point flashing against the declining sun, 
while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from 
the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a champion in his pano- 
ply, he rides round and round within the great circle 
of lodges, balancing with a graceful buoyancy to the 
free movements of his war horse, while with a sedate 
brow he sings his song to the Great Spirit. Young 
rival warriors look askance at him; vermilion-cheeked 
girls gaze in admiration, boys v\^hoop and scream in a 
thrill of delight, and old women yell forth his name 
and proclaim his praises from lodge to lodge. 

Truly it is a poor thing, this life of an Indian. 
Few and mean are its pleasures. War without the 
inspiration of chivalry, gallantry with no sentiment 
to elevate it! Yet never have 1 seen in any Indian 
village on the remote prairies such abject depravity, 
such utter abasement and prostitution of every nobler 
part of humanity, as I have seen in great cities, the 
centers of the world's wisdom and refinement. The 
meanest savage in The Whirlwind's camp would seem 
noble and dignified compared with some of the lost 
children of civilization. ■ 

Mahto-Tatonka, to come back to him, was the best 
of all our Indian friends. Hour after hour and day 
after day, when swarms of savages of every age, sex, 
and degree beset our camp, he would lie in our tent, 
his lynx eye ever open to guard our property from 
pillage. 

The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 223 

The feast was finished, and the pipe began to circulate. 
It was a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed 
my admiration of its form and dimensions. 

^^If the Meneaska likes the pipe," asked The 
Whirlwind, ^' why does he not keep it?" 

Such a pipe among the Ogallallahs is valued at the 
price of a horse. A princely gift, thinks the reader, 
and worthy of a chieftain and a warrior. The Whirl- 
wind's generosity rose to no such pitch. He gave me 
the pipe, confidently expecting that I in return should 
make him a present of equal or superior value. This 
is the implied condition of every gift among the 
Indians as among the Orientals, and should it not be 
complied with the present is usually reclaimed by the 
giver. So I arranged upon a gaudy calico handker- 
chief, an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, 
and gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, 
assured him of my friendship, and begged his accept- 
ance of a slight token of it. Ejaculating "How! 
how!" he folded up the offerings and withdrew to 
his lodge. 

Several days passed and w^e and the Indians re- 
mained encamped side by side. They could not decide 
whether or not to go to the war! Tow^ard evening, 
scores of them would surround our tent, a wild and 
picturesque group. Late one afternoon a dozen of 
them mounted on horseback came suddenly in sight 
from behind some clumps of bushes that lined the 
bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on 
whose back was a wretched negro, sustained in his 



224 THE OREGON TRAIL 

seat only by the high pommel and cantle of the 
Indian saddle. His cheeks were withered and shrunken 
in the hollow of his jaws; his eyes were unnaturally 
dilated, and his lips seemed shriveled and drawn back 
from his teeth like those of a corpse. When they 
brought him up before our tent, and lifted him from 
the saddle, he could not walk or stand, but he crawled 
a short distance, and with a look of utter misery sat 
down on the grass. All the children and women 
came pouring out of the lodges round us, and with 
screams and cries made a close circle about him, 
while he sat supporting himself with his hands, and 
looking from side to side with a vacant stare. The 
wretch was starving to death! For thirty-three days 
he had wandered alone on the prairie, without weapon 
of any kind; without shoes, moccasins, or any other 
clothing than an old jacket and pantaloons; without 
intelligence and skill to guide his course, or any 
knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All 
this time he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, 
wild onions, and three eggs which he found in the nest 
of a prairie dove. He had not seen a human being. 
Utterly bewildered in the boundless, hopeless desert 
that stretched around him, offering to his inexperi- 
enced eye no mark by which to direct his course, he 
had walked on in despair till he could walk no longer, 
and then crawled on his knees until the bone was laid 
bare. He chose the night for his traveling, lying 
down by day to sleep in the glaring sun, always 
dreaming, as he said, of the broth and corn cake he 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 225 

used to eat under his old master's shed in Missouri. 
Every man in the camp, both white and red, was 
astonished at his wonderful escape not only from 
starvation, but from the grizzly bears which abound in 
that neighborhood, and the wolves which howled 
around him every night. 

Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians 
brought him in. He had run away from his master 
about a year before and joined the party of Mr. 
Richard, who was then leaving the frontier for the 
mountains. He had lived with Richard ever since, 
until in the end of May he with Reynal and several 
other men went out in search of some stray horses, 
when Jack got separated from the rest in a storm, 
and had never been heard of up to this time. Know- 
ing his inexperience and helplessness, no one dreamed 
that he could still be living. The Indians found him 
lying exhausted on the ground. 

As he sat there with the Indians gazing silently on 
him, his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting 
to look upon. Delorier made him a bowl of gruel, 
but he suffered it to remain untasted before him. 
At length he languidly raised the spoon to his lips; 
again he did so, and again; and then his appetite 
seemed suddenly inflamed into madness, for he seized 
the bowl, swallowed all its contents in a few seconds, 
and eagerly demanded meat. This we refused, telling 
him to wait until morning, but he begged so eagerly 
that we gave him a small piece, which he devoured, 
tearing it like a dog. He said he must have more. 



226 THE OREGON TRAIL 

We told him that his life was in danger if he ate so 
immoderately at first. He assented, and said he 
knew he w^as a fool to do so, but he must have 
meat. This we absolutely refused, to the great 
indignation of the senseless squaws, who, when we 
were not watching him, would slyly bring dried meat 
and pommes blanches,^ and place them on the ground 
by his side. Still this was not enough for him. When 
it grew dark he contrived to creep away between the 
legs of the horses and crawl over to the Indian village, 
about a furlong down the stream. Here he fed to 
his heart's content, and was brought back again in 
the morning, when Jean Gras, the trapper, put him on 
horseback and carried him to the fort. Jack managed 
to survive the effects of his insane greediness, and 
though slightly deranged when he left this part of 
the country, he was otherwise in tolerable health, and 
expressed his firm conviction that nothing could ever 
kill him. 

When the sun was as yet an hour high, it was a gay 
scene in the village. The warriors stalked sedately 
among the lodges, or along the margin of the streams, 
or walked out to visit the bands of horses that were 
feeding over the prairie. Half the village population 
deserted the close and heated lodges and betook 
themselves to the water; and here you might see boys 
and girls and young squaws splashing, swimming, 
and diving beneath the afternoon sun, with merry 
laughter and screaming. But when the sun was 
just resting above the broken peaks, and the purple 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 227 

mountains threw their prolonged shadows for miles 
over the prairie; when our grim old trees, lighted by 
the horizontal rays, assumed an aspect of peaceful 
repose, such as one loves after scenes of tumult and 
excitement; and when the whole landscape of swelling 
plains and scattered groves was softened into a 
tranquil beauty, then our encampment presented a 
striking spectacle. Could Salvator Rosa^ have trans- 
ferred it to his canvas, it would have added new 
renown to his pencil. Savage figures surrounded 
our tents, with quivers at their backs, and guns, lances, 
or tomahawks in their hands. Some sat on horse- 
back, motionless as equestrian statues, their arms 
crossed on their breasts, their eyes fixed in a steady 
unwavering gaze upon us. Some stood erect, wrapped 
from head to foot in their long white robes of buffalo- 
hide. Some sat together on the grass, holding their 
shaggy horses by a rope, with their broad dark busts 
exposed to view as they suffered their robes to fall 
from their shoulders. Others again stood carelessly 
among the throng, with nothing to conceal the match- 
less symmetry of their forms; and I do not exaggerate 
when I say that only on the prairie and in the Vatican 
have I seen such faultless models of the human figure. 
See that warrior standing by the tree, towering six 
feet and a half in stature. Your eyes may trace the 
whole of his graceful and majestic height, and dis- 
cover no defect or blemish. With his free and noble 
attitude, with the bow in his hand, and the quiver 
at his back, he might seem, but for his face, the Pythian 



228 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Apollo himself. Such a figure rose before the imagi- 
nation of Benjamin West/ when on first seeing the 
Belvidere in the Vatican, he exclaimed, " By heaven, 
a Mohawk warrior!" The Mad Wolf was the name 
of the lofty champion. Unless fame belied him, he 
was a bold, subtle, and cruel warrior, and his features 
bore the impress of such a character. 

When the sky darkened and the stars began to 
appear; when the prairie was involved in gloom and 
the horses were driven in and secured around the 
camp, the crowd began to melt away. Fires gleamed 
around, duskily revealing the rough trappers and the 
graceful Indians. One of the families near us would 
always be gathered about a bright blaze, that dis- 
played the shadowy dimensions of their lodge, and 
sent its lights far up among the masses of foliage 
above, gilding the dead and ragged branches. With- 
ered witchlike hags flitted around the blaze, and here 
for hour after hour sat a circle of children and young 
girls, laughing and talking; their round merry faces 
glowing in the ruddy light. We could hear the 
monotonous notes of the drum from the Indian 
village, with the chanting of the war song, deadened 
in the distance, and the long chorus of quavering 
yells, where the war dance was going on in the largest 
lodge. For several nights, too, we could hear wild 
and mournful cries, rising and dying away like the 
melancholy voice of a wolf. They came from the 
sisters and female relatives of Mahto-Tatonka, who 
were gashing their limbs with knives, and bewailing 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 229 

the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour 
would grow late before all retired to rest in the camp. 
Then the embers of the fires would be glowing dimly, 
the men would be stretched in their blankets on the 
ground, and nothing could be heard but the restless 
motions of the crowded horses. 

I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleas- 
ure and pain. At this time I was so reduced by 
illness that I could seldom walk without reeling like 
a drunken man, and when I rose from my seat upon 
the ground the landscape suddenly grew dim before 
my eyes, the trees and lodges seemed to sway to and 
fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like the swells of 
the ocean. Such a state of things is by no means 
enviable anywhere. In a country where a man's 
life may at any moment depend on the strength of 
his arm, or it may be on the activity of his legs, it 
is more particularly inconvenient. Medical assist- 
ance of course there was none; neither had I the 
means of pursuing a system of diet; and sleeping on 
a damp ground, with an occasional drenching from 
a shower, would hardly be recommended as beneficial. 
I sometimes suffered the extremity of exhaustion, 
and though at the time 1 felt no apprehensions of the 
final result, I have since learned that my situation was 
a critical one. Besides other formidable inconveni- 
ences, I owe it in a great measure to the remote effects 
of that unlucky disorder that from deficient eye- 
sight I am compelled to employ the pen of another 
in taking down this narrative from my lips. 



230 THE OREGON TRAIL 

I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long 
time, with exemplary patience, I lounged about the 
camp, or at the utmost staggered over to thelndian 
village, and walked faint and dizzy among the lodges. 
It would not do, and I bethought me of starvation. 
During five days I sustained life on one small biscuit 
a day. At the end of that time I was weaker than 
before, but the disorder seemed shaken in its strong- 
hold and very gradually I began to resume a less 
rigid diet. No sooner had I done so than the same 
detested symptoms revisited me; my old enemy 
renewed his pertinacious assaults, yet not with his 
former violence or constancy, and though before I 
regained any fair portion of my ordinary strength 
weeks had elapsed, and months passed before the 
disorder left me, yet thanks to old habits of activity, 
and a merciful Providence, I was able to sustain 
myself against it.. 

I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent 
and muse on the past and the future, and when most 
overcome with lassitude, my eyes turned always 
toward the distant Black Hills. There is a spirit of 
energy and vigor in mountains, and they impart 
it to all who approach their presence. At that time 
I did not know how many dark superstitions and 
gloomy legends are associated with those mountains 
in the minds of the Indians, but I felt an eager desire 
to penetrate their hidden recesses, to explore the 
awful chasms and precipices, the black torrents, the 
silent forests, that I fancied were concealed there. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 231 

At length The Whirlwind and his warriors deter- 
mined to move. They had resolved after all their 
preparations not to go to the rendezvous at La 
Bonte's camp, but to pass through the Black Hills 
and spend a few weeks in hunting the buffalo on the 
other side, until they had killed enough to furnish 
them with a stock of provisions and with hides to 
make their lodges for the next season. This done, 
they were to send out a small independent war party 
against the enemy. Their final determination left 
us in some embarrassment. Should we go to La 
Bonte's camp, it was not impossible that the other 
villages would prove as vacillating and indecisive 
as The Whirlwind's, and that no assembly whatever 
would take place. Our old companion Reynal had 
conceived a liking for us, or rather for our biscuit 
and coffee, and for the occasional small presents 
which we made him. He was very anxious that we 
should go with the village which he himself intended 
to accompany. He declared he was certain that no 
Indians would meet at the rendezvous, and said 
moreover that it would be easy to convey our cart 
and baggage through the Black Hills. In saying 
this, he told as usual an egregious^ falsehood. Neither 
he nor any white man with us had ever seen the diffi- 
cult and obscure defiles through which the Indians 
intended to make their way. I passed them after- 
ward, and had much ado to force my distressed horse 
along the narrow ravines, and through chasms where 
daylight could scarcely penetrate. Our cart might 



232 THE OREGON TRAIL 

as easily have been conveyed over the summit of 
Pike's Peak.^ Anticipating the difficulties and un- 
certainties of an attempt to visit the rendezvous, 
we recalled the old proverb: ^'a bird in the hand, 
is worth two in the bush/' and decided to follow the 
village. 

Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up 
on the morning of the first of July. I was so weak 
that the aid of a potent auxiliary, a spoonful of 
whisky swallowed at short intervals, alone enabled 
me to sit my hardy little mare Pauline through the 
short journey of that day. For half a mile before us 
and a half mile behind, the prairie was covered far 
and wide with the moving throng of savages. The 
barren, broken plain stretched away to the right and 
left, and far in front rose the gloomy precipitous 
ridge of the Black Hills. We pushed forward to the 
head of the scattered column, passing the burdened 
travaux, the heavily laden pack horses, the gaunt old 
women on foot, the gay young squaws on horseback, 
the restless children running among the crowd, old 
men striding along in their white buffalo robes, and 
groups of young warriors mounted on their best 
horses. Henry Chatillon, looking backward over 
the distant prairie, exclaimed suddenly that a horse- 
man was approaching, and in truth we could just 
discern a small black speck slowly moving over the 
face of a distant swell, like a fly creeping on a wall. 
It rapidly grew larger as it approached. 

"White man, I b'lieve," said Henry; ''look how he 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 233 

ride! Indian never ride that way. Yes; he got 
rifle on the saddle before him." 

The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the 
prairie, but we soon saw him again, and as he came 
riding at a gallop toward us through the crowd of 
Indians, his long hair streaming in the wind behind 
him, we recognized the ruddy face and old buckskin 
frock of Jean Gras the trapper. He was just arrived 
from Fort Laramie, where he had been on a visit, 
and said he had a message for us. A trader named 
Bisonette, one of Henry's friends, was lately come 
from the settlements, and intended to go with a 
party of men to La Bonte's camp, where as Jean 
Gras assured us, ten or twelve villages of Indians 
would certainly assemble. Bisonette desired that we 
would cross over and meet him there, and promised 
that his men should protect our horses and baggage 
while we went among the Indians. Shaw and I 
stopped our horses and held a council of war, and 
in an evil hour we resolved to go. 

For the rest of that day our course and that of the 
Indians was the same. In less than an hour we came 
to where the high barren prairie terminated, sinking 
down abruptly in steep declivities; and standing on 
these heights, we saw below us a great level meadow. 
Laramie Creek bounded it on the left, sweeping along 
in the shadow of the declivities, and passing with 
its shallow and rapid current just below us. We sat 
on horseback, waiting and looking on, while the 
whole savage array went pouring past us, hurrying 



234 THE OREGON TRAIL 

down the descent and spreading themselves over the 
meadow below. In a few moments the plain was 
swarming with the moving multitude, some just 
visible, like specks in the distance, others still passing 
on, pressing down, and fording the stream with 
bustle and confusion. On the edge of the heights 
sat half a dozen of the elder warriors, gravely smoking 
and looking down with unmoved faces on the wild 
and striking spectacle. 

Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of 
the stream. For the sake of quiet we pitched our 
tent among some trees at half a mile's distance. 
In the afternoon we were in the village. The day 
was a glorious one, and the whole camp seemed 
lively and animated in sympathy. Groups of chil- 
dren and young girls were laughing gayly on the 
outside of the lodges. The shields, the lances, and 
the bows were removed from the tall tripods on 
which they usually hung before the dwellings of their 
owners. The warriors were mounting their horses, 
and one by one riding away over the prairie toward 
the neighboring hills. 

Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of 
Reynal. An old woman, with true Indian hospi- 
tality, brought a bowl of boiled venison and placed 
it before us. We amused ourselves with watching 
half a dozen young squaws who were playing together 
and chasing each other in and out of one of the lodges. 
Suddenly the wild yell of the war-whoop came pealing 
from the hills. A crowd of horsemen appeared, 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 235 

rushing down their sides and riding at full speed 
toward the village, each warrior's long hair flying 
behind him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As 
they approached, the confused throng assumed 
a regular order, and entering two by two, they 
circled round the area at full gallop, each warrior 
singing his war-song as he rode. Some of their 
dresses were splendid. They wore superb crests of 
feathers and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed 
with the scalp-locks of their enemies; their shields 
too were often fluttering with the war-eagle's feathers. 
All had bows and arrows at their back; some carried 
long lances, and a few were armed with guns. The 
White Shield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire 
at their head, mounted on a black-and-white horse. 
Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers took no part in this 
parade, for they were in mourning for their sister, 
and were all sitting in their lodges, their bodies be- 
daubed from head to foot with white clay, and a 
lock of hair cut from each of their foreheads. 

The warriors circled three times round the village; 
and as each distinguished champion passed, the old 
women would scream out his name in honor of his 
bravery, and to incite the emulation of the younger 
warriors. Little urchins, not two years old, followed 
the warlike pageant with glittering eyes, and looked 
with eager wonder and admiration at those whose 
honors were proclaimed by the public voice of the 
village. Thus early is the lesson of war instilled into 
the mind of an Indian, and such are the stimulants 



236 THE OREGON TRAIL 

which excite his thirst for martial renown. The pro- 
cession rode out of the village as it had entered it, 
and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, 
dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three. 
As the sun rose next morning we looked across the 
meadow, and could see the lodges leveled and the In- 
dians gathering together in preparation to leave the 
camp. Their course lay to the westward. We 
turned toward the north with our three men, the 
four trappers following us, with the Indian family 
of Moran. We traveled until night. I suffered not 
a little from pain and weakness, the latter of which 
would have forced me to take an uncomfortable 
refuge in the cart, but for the aid of my former friend, 
the whisky. We encamped among some trees by 
the side of a little brook, and here during the whole 
of the next day we lay waiting for Bisonette, but no 
Bisonette appeared. Here also two of our trapper 
friends left us, and set out for the Rocky Mountains. 
On the second morning, despairing of Bisonette's 
arrival, we resumed our journey, traversing a for- 
lorn and dreary monotony of sun-scorched plains, 
where no living thing appeared save here and there 
an antelope flying before us like the wind. When 
noon came we saw an unwonted and most welcome 
sight; a rich and luxuriant growth of trees, marking 
the course of a little stream called Horseshoe Creek. 
Right gladly — I can answer for myself at least — we 
turned toward it. There were lofty and spreading 
trees, standing widely asunder, and supporting a 






SCENES AT THE CAMP 237 

thick canopy of leaves, above a surface of rich, tall 
grass. The stream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, 
through the bosom of the wood, sparkling over its 
bed of white sand and darkening again as it entered 
a deep cavern of leaves and boughs. I was thor- 
oughly exhausted, and flung myself on the ground, 
scarcely able to move. All that afternoon I lay in 
the shade by the side of the stream, and those bright 
woods and sparkling water are associated in my 
mind with recollections of lassitude and utter prostra- 
tion. When night came I sat down by the fire, 
longing, with an intensity of which at this moment 
I can hardly conceive, for some powerful stimulant. 
In the morning as glorious a sun rose upon us as 
ever animated that desolate wilderness. We ad- 
vanced and soon were surrounded by tall bare hills, 
overspread from top to bottom with prickly-pears 
and other cacti, that seemed like clinging reptiles. 
A plain, flat and hard, and with scarcely the vestige 
of grass, lay before us, and a line of tall misshapen 
trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight 
or sound of man or beast, or any living thing, although 
behind those trees was the long-looked-for place of 
rendezvous, where we fondly hoppd to have found 
the Indians congregated by thousands. We looked 
and listened anxiously. We pushed forward with 
our best speed, and forced our horses through the 
trees. There were copses of some extent beyond, 
with a scanty stream creeping through their midst; 
and as we pressed through the yielding branches, 



238 THE OREGON TRAIL 

deer sprang up to the right and left. At length we 
caught a glimpse of the prairie beyond. Soon we 
emerged upon it, and saw, not a plain covered with 
encampments and swarming with life, but a vast un- 
broken desert stretching way before us league upon 
league, without a bush or a tree or anything that had 
life. We drew rein and gave to the winds our senti- 
ments concerning the whole aboriginal race of Amer- 
ica, couched in certain concise and vigorous expres- 
sions peculiar to us of the Anglo-Saxon breed. Our 
journey was in vain and much worse than in vain. 
For myself, I was vexed and disappointed beyond 
measure; as I well knew that a slight aggravation of 
my disorder would render this false step irrevocable, 
and make it quite impossible to accomplish effec- 
tually the design which had led me an arduous jour- 
ney of between three and four thousand miles. To 
fortify myself as well as I could against such a con- 
tingency, I resolved that I would not under any 
circumstances attempt to leave the country until 
my object was completely gained. 

And where were the Indians? They were assem- 
bled in great numbers at a spot about twenty miles 
distant, and there, at that very moment they were 
engaged in their warlike ceremonies. The scarcity 
of buffalo in the vicinity of La Bonte's camp, which 
would render their supply of provisions scanty and 
precarious, had probably prevented them from assem- 
bling there; but of all this we knew nothing until 
some weeks after. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 239 

Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, 
though much more vexed than he, was not strong 
enough to adopt this convenient vent to my feelings; 
so I foljowed at a quiet pace, but in no quiet mood. 
We rode up to a solitary old tree, which seemed the 
only place fit for encampment. Half its branches 
were dead, and the rest were so scantily furnished 
with leaves that they cast but a meager and wretched 
shade, and the old twisted trunk alone furnished 
sufficient protection from the sun. We threw down 
our saddles in the strip of shadow that it cast, and 
sat down upon them. In silent indignation we 
remained smoking for an hour or more, shifting our 
saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sun was 
intolerably hot. 



CHAPTER XII 
Hunting Indians 

I tread 
With fainting steps and slow, 
Where wilds immeasurably spread 

Seem lengthening as I go. Goldsmith. 

At last we had reached La Bonte's camp, toward 
which our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary 
hours, those that passed between noon and sunset 
of the day when we arrived there may bear away 
the palm of exquisite discomfort. I lay under the 
tree reflecting on what course to pursue, watching 
the shadows which seemed never to move, and the sun 
which remained fixed in the sky, and hoping every 
moment to see the men and horses of Bisonette emerg- 
ing from the woods. Shaw and Henry had ridden 
out on a scouting expedition, and did not return until 
the sun was setting. There was nothing very cheer- 
ing in their faces nor in the news they brought. 

"We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. 
'^We climbed the highest butte we could find, and 
could not see a buffalo or Indian; nothing but prairie 
for twenty miles around us/' Henry's horse was 

240 



HUNTING INDIANS 241 

quite disabled by clambering up and down the sides 
of ravines, and Shaw's was severely fatigued. 

After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, 
I proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer in hopes 
of Bisonette's arrival, and if he should not come to 
send Delorier with the cart and baggage back to 
Fort Laramie, while we ourselves followed The 
Whirlwind's village and attempted to overtake it as 
it passed the mountains. Shaw, not having the 
same motive for hunting Indians that I had, was 
averse to the plan; I therefore resolved to go alone. 
This design I adopted very unwillingly, for I knew 
that in the present state of my heath the attempt 
would be extremely unpleasant, and, as I considered, 
hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette would appear in 
the course of the following day, and bring us some 
information by which to direct our course, and 
enable me to accomplish my purpose by means less 
objectionable. 

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the 
subsistence of the party in my absence; so I called 
Raymond and ordered him to prepare to set out with 
me. Raymond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but 
at length, having succeeded in grappling with the 
idea, he withdrew to his bed under the cart. He 
was a heavy-molded fellow, with a broad face exactly 
like an owl's, expressing the most impenetrable 
stupidity and entire self-confidence. As for his good 
qualities, he had a sort of stubborn fidelity^ an insen- 
sibility to danger, and a kind of instinct or sagacity, 



242 THE OREGON TRAIL 

which sometimes led him right, where better heads 
than his were at a loss. Besides this, he knew very 
well how to handle a rifle and picket a horse. 

Through the following day the sun glared down 
upon us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The dis- 
tant blue prairie seemed quivering under it. The 
lodge of our Indian associates was baking in the rays, 
and our rifles, as they leaned against the tree, were too 
hot for the touch. There was a dead silence through 
our camp and all around it, unbroken except by the 
hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting their 
foreheads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. 
The Indians kept close within their lodge except the 
newly married pair, who were seated together under 
an awning of buffalo robes, and the old conjurer, who, 
with his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was 
perched aloft like a turkey-buzzard among the dead 
branches of an old tree, constantly on the lookout 
for enemies. He would have made a capital shot. 
A rifle bullet, skilfully planted, would have brought 
him tumbling to the ground. Surely, there could be 
no more harm in shooting such a hideous old villain, 
to see how ugly he would look when he was dead, than 
in shooting the detestable vulture which he resem- 
bled. We dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse. 

^'I will ride back," said he, "to Horseshoe Creek, 
and see if Bisonette is there." 

"I would go with you," I answered, "but I must 
reserve all the strength I have." 

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied 



HUNTING INDIANS 243 

myself in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making 
other preparations for the journey. After supper, 
Henry Chatillon and I lay by the fire, discussing the 
properties of that admirable weapon, the rifle, in the 
use of which he could fairly outrival Leatherstocking* 
himself. 

It was late before I wrapped myself in my blanket 
and lay down for the night, with my head on my 
saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gave us no 
uneasiness, for we presumed that he had fallen in 
with Bisonette, and was spending the night with 
him. For a day or two past I had gained in strength 
and health, but about midnight an attack of pain 
awoke me, and for some hours I felt no inclination to 
sleep. The moon was quivering on the broad breast 
of the Platte; nothing could be heard except those 
low inexplicable sounds, like whisperings and foot- 
steps, which no one who has spent the night alone 
amid deserts and forests will be at a loss to under- 
stand. As I was falling asleep, a familiar voice, 
shouting from the distance, awoke me again. A 
rapid step approached the camp, and Shaw on foot, 
with his gun in his hand, hastily entered. 

'^ Where's your horse?" said I, raising myself on 
my elbow. 

''Lost!'' said Shaw. ''Where's Delorier?" 

"There,'' I replied, pointing to a confused mass 
of blankets and buffalo robes. 

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun. and 
up sprang our faithful Canadian. 



244 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" Come, Delorier, stir up the fire, and get me some- 
thing to eat." 

^^ Where's Bisonette?" asked I. 

'^The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horseshoe 
Creek." 

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had 
encamped two days before, and finding nothing there 
but the ashes of our fires, he had tied his horse to the 
tree while he bathed in the stream. Something 
startled his horse, who broke loose, and for two hours 
Shaw tried in vain to catch him. Sunset approached, 
and it was twelve miles to camp. So he abandoned 
the attempt, and set out on foot to join us. The 
greater part of his perilous and solitary work was 
performed in darkness. His moccasins were worn 
to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He sat 
clown to eat, however, with the usual equanimity of 
his temper not at all disturbed by his misfortune, 
and my last recollection before falling asleep was of 
Shaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking 
his pipe. The horse, I may as well mention here, 
was found the next morning by Henry Chatillon. 

When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell 
in the air, a gray twilight involved the prairie, and 
above its eastern verge was a streak of cold red sky. 
I called to the men, and in a moment a fire was blaz- 
ing brightly in the dim morning light, and breakfast 
was getting ready. We sat down together on the 
grass, to the last civilized meal which Raymond and 
I were destined to enjoy for some time. 



HUNTING INDIANS 245 

''Now, bring in the horses." 

My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the 
fire. She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, 
christened after Paul Dorion, from whom I had pro- 
cured her in exchange for Pontiac. She did not look 
as if equipped for a morning pleasure ride. In front 
of the black, high-bowed mountain saddle, holsters, 
with heavy pistols, were fastened. A pair of saddle 
bags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small parcel of Indian 
presents tied up in a buffalo skin, a leather bag of 
flour, and a smaller one of tea were all secured be- 
hind, and a long trail-rope was wound round poor 
Pauline's neck. Raymond had a strong black mule 
equipped in a similar manner. We crammed our 
powder-horns to the throat, and mounted. 

''I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of 
August," said I to Shaw. 

''That is," replied he, ''if we don't meet before 
that. I think I shall follow after you in a day or 
two." 

This in fact he attempted, and he would have 
succeeded if he had not encountered obstacles against 
which even his resolute spirit was of no avail. Two 
days after I left him he sent Delorier to the fort with 
the cart and baggage, and set out for the mountains 
with Henry Chatillon; but a tremendous thunder- 
storm had deluged the prairie, and nearly obliterated 
not only our trail but that of the Indians themselves. 
They followed along the base of the mountains, at a 
loss in which direction to go. They encamped there 



246 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and in the morning Shaw found himself poisoned by 
ivy in such a manner that it was impossible for him 
to travel. So they turned back reluctantly toward 
Fort Laramie. Shaw's limbs were swollen to double 
their usual size, and he rode in great pain. They 
encamped again within twenty miles of the fort, 
and reached it early on the following morning. Shaw 
lay seriously ill for a week, and remained at the fort 
till I rejoined him some time after. 

To return to my own story. We shook hands with 
our friends, rode out upon the prairie, and clambering 
the sandy hollows that were channeled in the sides 
of the hills, gained the high plains above. If a curse 
had been pronounced upon the land, it could not 
have worn an aspect of more dreary and forlorn barren- 
ness. There were abrupt broken hills, deep hollows, 
and wide plains; but all alike glared with an insup- 
portable whiteness under the burning sun. The 
country, as if parched by the heat, had cracked into 
innumerable fissures and ravines, that not a little 
impeded our progress. Their steep sides were white 
and raw, and along the bottom we several times 
discovered the broad tracks of the terrific grizzly 
bear, nowhere more abundant than in this region. 
The ridge of the hills were hard as rock, and strewn 
with pebbles of flint and coarse red jasper; looking 
from them, there was nothing to relieve the desert 
uniformity of the prospect, save here and there a pine 
tree clinging at the edge of a ravine, and stretching 
over its rough, shaggy arms. Under the scorching 



HUNTING INDIANS 247 

heat these melancholy trees diffused their peculiar 
resinous odor through the sultry air. There was 
something in it, as I approached them, that recalled 
old associations; the pine-clad mountains of New 
England, traversed in days of health and buoyancy, 
rose like a reality before my fancy. In passing that 
arid waste I was goaded with a morbid thirst produced 
by my disorder, and I thought with a longing desire 
on the crystal treasure poured in such wasteful pro- 
fusion from our thousand hills. Shutting my eyes, I 
more than half believed that I heard the deep plunging 
and gurgling of waters in the bowels of the shaded 
rocks. I could see their dark icy glittering far down 
amid the crevices, and the cold drops trickling from 
the long green mosses. 

When noon came, we found a little stream, with a 
few trees and bushes; and here we rested for an hour. 
Then we traveled on, guided by the sun, until, just 
before sunset, we reached another stream, called 
Bitter Cotton-wood Creek. A thick growth of bushes 
and old storm-beaten trees grew at intervals along 
its bank. Near the foot of one of the trees we flung 
down our saddles, and hobbling our horses turned 
them loose to feed. The little stream was clear and 
swift, and gurgled musically over its white sands. 
Dozens of small water birds were splashing in the 
shallows, and filling the air with their cries and flutter- 
ings. At that hour the scene was one of wild yet 
tranquil beauty, for the sun was just sinking among 
gold and crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie.^ I 



248 THE OREGON TRAIL 

well remember how I lay upon a log by the margin of 
the water, and watched the restless motions of the 
little fish in a deep still nook below. Strange to say, 
I seemed to have gained strength since the morning, 
and almost felt a sense of returning health. 

We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves 
began to howl. One deep voice commenced, and it 
was answered in awful responses from the hills, the 
plains, and the woods along the stream above and 
below us. Such sounds need not and do not disturb 
one's sleep upon the prairie. We picketed the ani- 
mals close at our feet, and did not awake until day- 
light. Then we turned them loose, still hobbled, to 
feed for an hour before starting. We were getting 
ready our morning's meal, when Raymond saw 
an antelope at half a mile's distance, and said he 
would go and shoot it. 

''Your business," said I, ''is to look after the 
animals. I am too weak to do much, if anything 
happens to them, and you must keep within sight of 
the camp." 

Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in 
his hand. The animals had passed across the stream, 
and were feeding among the long grass on the other 
side, much tormented by the attacks of the numerous 
large green-headed flies. As I watched them, I saw 
them go down into a hollow, and as several minutes 
elapsed without their reappearing, I waded through 
the stream to look after them. To my vexation and 
alarm I discovered them at a great distance, galloping 



HUNTING INDIANS 249 

away at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her 
hobbles broken, and the mule, still fettered, following 
with awkward leaps. I fired my rifle and shouted to 
recall Raymond. In a moment he came running 
through the stream, with a red handkerchief bound 
round his head. I pointed to the fugitives, and 
ordered him to pursue them. Muttering a " Sacrel" 
between his teeth, he set out at full speed, still swing- 
ing his rifle in his hand. I walked up to the top of 
a hill and looking away over the prairie, could just 
distinguish the fugitives, still at full gallop. Return- 
ing to the fire, I sat down at the foot of a tree. Wearily 
and anxiously hour after hour passed away. The old 
loose bark dangling from the trunk behind me flapped 
to and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their 
incessant drowsy humming; but other than this, there 
was no sight nor sound of life throughout the burning 
landscape. The sun rose higher and higher, until 
the shadows fell almost perpendicularly, and I knew 
that it must be noon. It seemed scarcely possible 
that the animals could be recovered. If they were not, 
my situation was one of serious difficulty. Shaw, 
when I left him, had decided to move that morning, 
but whither he had not determined. To look for him 
would be a vain attempt. Fort Laramie was forty 
miles distant, and I could not walk a mile without 
great effort. Not then having learned the sound 
philosophy of yielding to disproportionate obstacles, 
I resolved to continue in any event the pursuit of the 
Indians. Only one plan occurred to me; this was to 



250 THE OREGON TRAIL 

send Raymond to the fort with an order for more 
horses, while I remained on the spot, awaiting his 
return, which might take place within three days. 
But the adoption of this resolution did not wholly 
allay my anxiety, for it involved both uncertainty 
and danger. To remain stationary and alone for 
three days, in a country full of dangerous Indians, 
was not the most flattering of prospects; and pro- 
tracted as my Indian hunt must be by such delay, it 
was not easy to foretell its result. 

Revolving these matters, I grew hungry; and as 
our stock of provisions, except four or five pounds of 
flour, was by this time exhausted, I left the camp to 
see what game I could find. Nothing could be seen 
except four or five large curlew, which, w^ith their loud 
screaming, were wheeling over my head, and now 
and then alighting upon the prairie. I shot two of 
them, and was about returning, when a startling 
sight caught my eye. A small, dark object, like a 
human head, suddenly appeared, and vanished among 
the thick bushes along the stream below. In that 
country every stranger is a suspected enemy. In- 
stinctively I threw forward the muzzle of my rifle. 
In a moment the bushes were violently shaken, two 
heads, but not human heads, protruded, and to my 
great joy I recognized the downcast, disconsolate 
countenance of the black mule and the yellow visage 
of Pauline. Raymond came riding up, pale and 
haggard, and complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. 
I took charge of the animals wdiile he kneeled down 



HUNTING INDIANS 251 

by the side of the stream to drink; but he was faint 
and dizzy, and the water was instantly rejected. He 
had kept the runaways in sight as far as the Side 
Fork of Laramie Creek, a distance of more than ten 
miles; and here with great difficulty he had succeeded 
in catching them. I saw that he was unarmed, and 
asked him what he had done with his rifle. It had 
encumbered him in his pursuit, and he had dropped 
it on the prairie, thinking that he could find it on his 
return; but in this he had failed. The loss might 
prove a very formidable one. I was too much rej oiced, 
however, at the recovery of the animals to think much 
about it; and having made some tea for Raymond in 
a tin vessel which we had brought with us, I told him 
that I would give him two hours for resting before we 
set out again. He had eaten nothing that day; but 
having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. 
I picketed the animals among the richest grass that I 
could find, and made fires of green wood to protect 
them from the flies; then sitting clown again by the 
tree, I watched the slow movements of the sun, 
begrudging every moment that passed. 

The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke 
Raymond. We saddled and set out again, but first 
we went in search of the lost rifle, and in the course 
of an hour Raymon-d was fortunate enough to find it. 
Then we turned westward, and moved over the hills 
and hollows at a slow pace toward the Black Hills. 
The heat no longer tormented us, for a cloud was 
before the sun. Yet that day shall never be marked 



252 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with white in my calendar. The air began to grow 
fresh and cool, the distant mountains frowned more 
gloomily, there was a low muttering of thunder, and 
dense black masses of cloud rose heavily behind the 
broken peaks. At first they were gayly fringed with 
silver by the afternoon sun, but soon the thick black- 
ness overspread the whole sky, and the desert around 
us was wrapped in deep gloom. I scarcely heeded it 
at the time, but now I cannot but feel that there was 
an awful sublimity in the hoarse murmuring of the 
thunder, in the somber shadows that involved the 
lowering mountains and the savage plain. Then the 
storm broke. It came upon us with a zigzag blinding 
flash, with a terrific crash of thunder, and with a 
hurricane that howled over the prairie, dashing 
floods of water against us. Raymond looked round, 
and cursed the merciless elements. There seemed 
no shelter near, but we discerned at length a deep 
ravine gashed in the level prairie, and saw halfway 
down its side an old pine tree, whose rough horizontal 
boughs formed a sort of penthouse against the tempest. 
We found a practicable passage, and hastily descend- 
ing, fastened our animals to some large loose stones 
at the bottom; then climbing up, we drew our blankets 
over our heads, and seated ourselves close beneath 
the old tree. Perhaps I was no competent judge of 
time, but it seemed to me that we were sitting there 
a full hour, while around us poured a deluge of rain, 
through which the rocks on the opposite side of the 
gulf were barely visible. The first burst of the tern- 



HUNTING INDIANS 253 

pest soon subsided, but the rain poured steadily in 
streams from heaven to earth. At length Raymond 
grew impatient, and scrambling out of the ravine, he 
gained the level prairie above. 

" What does the weather look like?'* asked I, from 
my seat under the tree. 

''It looks bad," he answered; ''dark all around," 
and again he descended and sat down by my side. 
Some ten minutes elapsed. 

''Go up again," said I, "and take another look;" 
and he clambered up the precipice. "Well, how is 
it?" 

"Just the same, only I see one little bright spot 
over the top of the mountain." 

The rain by this time had begun to abate; and going 
clown to the bottom of the ravine, we loosened the 
animals, who were standing up to their knees in 
water. Leading them up the rocky throat of the 
ravine, we reached the plain above. "Am I," I 
thought to myself, "the same man who, a few months 
since, was seated, a quiet student of helle-lettres, in a 
cushioned arm-chair by a sea-coal fire?" 

All round us was obscurity; but the bright spot 
above the mountain-tops grew wider and ruddier, 
until at length the clouds drew apart, and a flood of 
sunbeams poured down from heaven, streaming along 
the precipices, and involving them in a thin blue 
haze, as soft and lovely as that which wraps the Apen- 
nines on an evening in spring. Rapidly the clouds 
were broken and scattered, like the routed legions of 



254 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the evil spirits. The plain lay basking in sunbeams 
around us; a rainbow arched the desert from north 
to south, and far in front a line of woods seemed 
inviting us to refreshment and repose. When we 
reached them, they were glistening with prismatic 
dewdrops, and enlivened by the song and fiutterings 
of a hundred birds. Strange winged insects, benumbed 
by the rain, were clinging to the leaves and the bark 
of the trees. 

Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. 
The animals turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich 
grass, while I, wrapping myself in my blanket, lay 
down and gazed on the evening landscape. The 
mountains, whose stern features had lowered upon us 
with so gloomy and awful a frown, now seemed lighted 
up with a serene, benignant smile, and the green 
waving undulations of the plain were gladdened with 
the rich sunshine. Wet, ill, and wearied as 1 was, 
my spirit grew lighter at the view, and I drew from 
it an augury of good. 

When morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing 
violently, though 1 had apparently received no 
injury. We mounted, crossed the little stream, 
pushed through the trees, and began our journey 
over the plain beyond. And now, as we rode slowly 
along, we looked anxiously on every hand for traces 
of the Indians, not doubting that the village had 
passed somewhere in that vicinity; but the scanty 
shriveled grass was not more than three or four inches 
high, and the ground was of such unyielding hardness 



HUNTING INDIANS 255 

that a host might have marched over it and left 
scarcely a trace of its passage. Up hill and down hill, 
and clambering through ravines, we continued our 
journey. As we were skirting the foot of a hill I saw 
Raymond, who was some rods in advance, suddenly 
jerking the reins of his mule. Sliding from his seat, 
and running in a crouching posture up a hollow, he 
disappeared; and then in an instant I heard the sharp 
quick crack of his rifle. A w^ounded antelope came 
running on three legs over the hill. I lashed Pauline 
and made after him. My fleet little mare soon 
brought me by his side, and after leaping and bound- 
ing for a few moments in vain, he stood still, as if 
despairing of escape. His glistening eyes turned 
up toward my face with so piteous a look that it w^as 
with a feeling of infinite compunction that I shot him 
through the head with a pistol. Raymond skinned 
and cut him up, and we hung the forequarters to our 
saddles, much rejoiced that our exhausted stock of 
provisions was renewed in such good time. 

Gaining the top of a hill, w^e could see along the 
cloudy verge of the prairie before us lines of trees and 
shadowy groves that marked the course of Laramie 
Creek. Some time before noon we reached its banks 
and began anxiously to search them for footprints of 
the Indians. We followed the stream for several 
miles, now on the shore and now wading in the water, 
scrutinizing every sand-bar and every muddy bank. 
So long was the search that we began to fear that we 
had left the trail undiscovered behind us. At length 



256 THE OREGON TRAIL 

I heard Raymond shouting, and saw him jump from 
his mule to examine some object under the shelving 
bank. I rode up to his side. It was the clear and 
palpable impression of an Indian moccasin. Encour- 
aged by this we continued our search, and at last 
some appearances on a soft surface of earth not far 
from the shore attracted my eye; and going to 
examine them I found half a dozen tracks, some 
made by men and some by children. Just then Ray- 
mond observed across the stream the mouth of a 
small branch entering it from the south. He forded 
the water, rode in at the opening, and in a moment 
I heard him shouting again, so I passed over and 
joined him. The little branch had a broad sandy 
bed, along which the water trickled in a scanty stream; 
and on either bank the bushes were so close that the 
view was completely intercepted. I found Raymond 
stooping over the footprints of three or four horses. 
Proceeding we found those of a man, then those of a 
child, then those of more horses; and at last the 
bushes on each bank were beaten down and broken, 
and the sand plowed up with a multitude of foot- 
steps, and scored across with the furrows made by 
the lodge-poles, that had been dragged through. It 
was now certain that we had found the trail. I 
pushed through the bushes, and at a little distance 
on the prairie beyond found the ashes of a hundred 
and fifty lodge fires, with bones and pieces of buffalo 
robes scattered around them, and in some instances 
the pickets to which horses had been secured still 



lii 



HUNTING INDIANS 257 

standing in the ground. Elated by our success we 
selected a convenient tree, and turning the animals 
loose, prepared to make a meal from the fat haunch 
of our victim. 

Hardship and exposure had thriven with me won- 
derfully. I had gained both health and strength 
since leaving La Bonte's camp. Raymond and I 
made a hearty meal together in high spirits, for we 
rashly presumed that having found one end of the 
trail we should have little difficulty in reaching the 
other. But when the animals were led in we found 
that our old ill luck had not ceased to follow us close. 
As I was saddling Pauline I saw that her eye was as 
dull as lead, and the hue of her yellow coat visibly 
darkened. I placed my foot in the stirrup to mount 
when instantly she staggered and fell flat on her side. 
Gaining her feet with an effort she stood by the fire 
with a drooping head. Whether she had been bitten 
by a snake or poisoned by some noxious plant or 
attacked by a sudden disorder, it was hard to say; 
but at all events her sickness was sufficiently ill- 
timed and unfortunate. I succeeded in a second 
attempt to mount her, and with a slow pace we 
moved forward on the trail of the Indians. It led us 
up a hill and over a dreary plain; and here, to our 
great mortification, the traces almost disappeared, 
for the ground was hard as adamant, and if its flinty 
surface had ever retained the dint of a hoof, the 
marks had been washed away by the deluge of yester- 
day. An Indian village, in its disorderly march, is 



258 THE OREGON TRAIL 

scattered over the prairie, often to the width of full 
half a mile; so that its trail is nowhere clearly marked, 
and the task of following it is made doubly wearisome 
and difficult. By good fortune plenty of large ant-hills, 
a yard or more in diameter, were scattered over the 
plain, and these were frequently broken by the foot- 
prints of men and horses, and marked by traces of 
the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the prickly- 
pear, also bruised from the same causes, helped a 
little to guide us; so inch by inch we moved along. 
Often we lost the trail altogether, and then would 
recover it again, but late in the afternoon we found 
ourselves totally at fault. There we stood alone 
without a clue to guide us on our way. The broken 
plain expanded for league after league around us, and 
in front the long dark ridge of mountains was stretch- 
ing from north to south. Mount Laramie, a little on 
our right, towered high above the rest and from a 
dark valley just beyond one of its lower declivities, 
we discerned volumes of w^hite smoke slowly rolling 
up into the clear air. 

"I think," said Raymond, "some Indians must be 
there. Perhaps we had better go.'* But this plan 
was not rashly to be adopted, and we determined 
still to continue our search after the lost trail. Our 
good stars prompted us to this decision, for we after- 
ward had reason to believe, from information given 
us by the Indians, that the smoke was raised as a 
decoy by a Crow war-party. 

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or 



HUNTING INDIANS 259 

water nearer than the foot of the mountains. So 
thither we turned, directing our course toward the 
point where Laramie Creek issues forth upon the 
prairie. When we reached it the bare tops of the 
mountains were still brightened with sunshine. The 
little river was breaking with a vehement and angry 
current from its dark prison. There was something 
in the near vicinity of the mountains, in the loud 
surging of the rapids, wonderfully cheering and 
exhilarating; for although once as familiar as home 
itself, they had been for months strangers to my 
experience. There was a rich grass-plot by the river 's 
bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would effect- 
ually screen ourselves and our fire from the sight of 
wandering Indians. Here among the grass I observed 
numerous circles of large stones, which, as Raymond 
said, were traces of a Dahcotah winter encampment. 
We lay down and did not awake till the sun was up. 
A large rock projected from the shore, and behind it 
the deep water was slowly eddying round and round. 
The temptation was irresistible. I threw off my 
clothes, leaped in, suffered myself to be borne once 
round with the current, and then, seizing the strong 
root of a water-plant, drew myself to the shore. The 
effect was so invigorating and refreshing that I mis- 
took it for returning health. "Pauline," thought I, 
as I led the little mare up to be saddled, " only thrive 
as I do, and you and I will have sport yet among the 
buffalo beyond these mountains." But scarcely 
were we mounted and on our way before the momen- 



260 THE OREGON TRAIL 

tary glow passed. Again I hung as usual in my seat, 
scarcely able to hold myself erect. 

^'Look yonder/' said Raymond; ''you see that big 
hollow there; the Indians must have gone that way, 
if they went anywhere about here." 

We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch 
cut into the mountain ridge, and here we soon dis- 
cerned an ant-hill furrowed with the mark of a lodge- 
pole. This was quite enough; there could be no 
doubt now. As we rode on, the opening growing 
narrower, the Indians had been compelled to march 
in closer order, and the traces became numerous and 
distinct. The gap terminated in a rocky gateway 
leading into a rough passage upward, between two 
precipitous mountains. Here grass and weeds were 
bruised to fragments by the throng that had passed 
through. We moved slowly over the rocks, up the 
passage; and in this toilsome manner we advanced 
for an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of feet 
high, shooting up on either hand. Raymond, with 
his hardy mule, was a few rods before me, when we 
came to the foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, 
and which I trusted might prove the highest point of 
the defile. Pauline strained upward for a few yards, 
moaning and stumbling, and then came to a dead 
stop, unable to proceed farther. I dismounted, and 
attempted to lead her; but my own exhausted 
strength soon gave out; so I loosened the trail-rope 
from her neck, and tying it round my arm, crawled 
up on my hands and knees. I gained the top, totally 



HUNTING INDIANS 261 

exhausted, the sweat drops trickling from my fore- 
head. Pauline stood like a statue by my side, her 
shadow falling upon the scorching rock; and in this 
shade, for there was no other, I lay for some time, 
scarcely able to move a limb; All around the black 
crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood glowing in 
the sun, without a tree, or a bush, or a blade of grass, 
to cover their precipitous sides. The whole scene 
seemed parched with a pitiless, insufferable heat. 

After a while I could mount again, and we moved 
on, descending the rocky defile on its western side. 
Thinking of that morning's journey, it has some- 
times seemed to me that there was something ridic- 
ulous in my position; a man, armed to the teeth, but 
wholly unable to fight, and equally so to run away, 
traversing a dangerous wilderness, on a sick horse. 
But these thoughts were retrospective, for at the 
time I was in too grave a mood to entertain a very 
lively sense of the ludicrous. 

Raymond's saddle-girth slipped; and while I pro- 
ceeded he was stopping to repair the mischief. I 
came to the top of a little declivity, where a most 
w^elcome sight greeted my eye; a nook of fresh green 
grass nestled among the cliffs, sunny clumps of bushes 
on one side, and shaggy old pine-trees leaning forward 
from the rocks on the other. A shrill, familiar voice 
saluted me, and recalled me to days of boyhood; that 
of the insect called the ''locust"^ by New England 
schoolboys, which was fast clinging among the heated 
boughs of the old pine-trees. Then, too, as I passed 



262 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the bushes, the low sound of falling water reached 
my ear. Pauline turned of her own accord, and 
pushing through the boughs we found a black rock, 
overarched by the cool green canopy. An icy stream 
was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white 
sand, from whence it had no visible outlet, but filtered 
through into the soil below. While I filled a tin cup 
at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plunging her head 
deep in the pellucid pool. Other visitors had been 
there before us. All around in the soft soil were the 
footprints of elk, deer, and the Rocky Mountain 
sheep; and the grizzly bear, too, had left the recent 
prints of his broad foot, with its frightful array of 
claws. In these mountains was his home. 

Soon after leaving the spring we found a little 
grassy plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, 
to our great joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp. 
Raymond's practiced eye detected certain signs by 
which he recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge 
had been pitched and his horses picketed. I ap- 
proached, and stood looking at the place. Reynal 
and I had, I believe, hardly a feeling in common. I 
disliked the fellow, and it perplexed me a good deal to 
understand why I should look with so much interest 
on the ashes of his fire, when between him and me 
there seemed no other bond of sympathy than the 
slender and precarious one of a kindred race. 

In half an hour from this we were clear of the 
mountains. There was a plain before us, totally 
barren and thickly peopled in many parts with the 



HUNTING INDIANS 263 

little prairie dogs, who sat at the mouths of their 
burrows and yelped at us as we passed. The plain, 
as we thought, was about six miles wide; but it cost 
us two hours to cross it. Then another mountain 
range rose before us, grander and more wild than the 
last had been. Far out of the dense shrubbery that 
clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot up black 
crags, all leaning one way, and shattered by storms 
and thunder into grim and threatening shapes. As we 
entered a narrow passage on the trail of the Indians, 
they impended frightfully on one side, above our 
heads. 

Our course was through dense woods, in the shade 
and twinkling sunlight of overhanging boughs. I 
would I could recall to mind all the startling com- 
binations that presented themselves, as winding from 
side to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, 
we could see glancing at intervals through the foliage, 
the awful forms of the gigantic cliffs, that seemed at 
times to hem us in on the right and on the left, before 
us and behind! Another scene in a few moments 
greeted us; a tract of gray and sunny woods, broken 
into knolls and hollows, enlivened by birds and inter- 
spersed with flowers. Among the rest I recognized 
the mellow whistle of the robin, an old familiar friend 
whom I had scarce expected to meet in such a place. 
Humble-bees too were buzzing heavily about the 
flowers; and of these a species of larkspur caught my 
eye, more appropriate, it should seem, to cultivated 
gardens than to a remote wilderness. Instantly it 



264 THE OREGON TRAIL 

recalled a multitude of dormant and delightful 
recollections. Civilization, with those that adorn and 
grace it, rose before me under an aspect more than 
ever attractive and engaging. Again looking around 
me, I was struck with the strong resemblance of 
the features of the scene to those of the cemetery 
at Mount Auburn.^ By a natural association, my 
thoughts recurred to quiet years spent in the neigh- 
boring university. 

Leaving behind us this spot and its associations, a 
sight soon presented itself, characteristic of that war- 
like region. In an open space, fenced in by high 
rocks, stood two Indian forts, of a square form, rudely 
built of sticks and logs. They were somewhat ruin- 
ous, having probably been constructed the year 
before. Each might have contained about twenty 
men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party had 
been beset by their enemies, and those scowling rocks 
and blasted trees might not long since have looked 
down on a conflict unchronicled and unknown. Yet 
if any traces of bloodshed remained they were com- 
pletely hidden by the bushes and tall rank weeds. 

Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the pas- 
sage expanded into a plain, where again we found 
traces of an Indian encampment. There were trees 
and bushes just before us, and we stopped here for an 
hour^s rest and refreshment. When we had finished 
our meal Raymond struck a light with a flint and the 
back of his knife, and lighting his pipe, sat down at 
the foot of a tree to smoke. For some time I observed 



HUNTING INDIANS 265 

him puffing away with a face of unusual solemnity. 
Then slowly taking the pipe from his lips, he looked 
up and remarked that we had better not go any 
farther. 

''Why not?" asked I. 

He said that the country was become very danger- 
ous, that we were entering the range of the Snakes, 
Arapahoes, and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if 
any of their wandering parties should meet us, it 
would cost us our lives; but he added, with a blunt 
fidelity that nearly reconciled me to his stupidity, 
that he would go anywhere I wished. I told him to 
bring up the animals, and mounting them we pro- 
ceeded again. I confess that, as we moved forward, 
the prospect seemed but a dreary and doubtful one. 
I would have given the world for my ordinary elas- 
ticity of body and mind, and for a horse of such 
strength and spirit as the journey required. 

Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, 
growing taller and steeper, and pressing more and 
more upon our path. We entered at length a defile 
which I never have seen rivaled. The mountain 
was cracked from top to bottom, and we were creep- 
ing along the bottom of the fissure, in dampness 
and gloom, with the clink of hoofs on the loose 
shingly rocks, and the hoarse murmuring of a petu- 
lant brook which kept us company. Sometimes the 
water, foaming among the stones, overspread the 
whole narrow passage; sometimes, withdrawing to 
one side, it gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking 



266 THE OREGON TRAIL 

up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky 
between the dark edges of the opposing cliffs. This 
did not last long. The passage soon widened, and 
sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon the 
black waters. Again the defile would spread out 
to many rods in width; bushes, trees, and flowers 
would spring by the side of the brook; the cliffs 
would be feathered with shrubbery, that clung in 
every crevice, and fringed with trees, that grew 
along their sunny edges; then we would be moving 
again in darkness and gloom. The passage seemed 
about four miles long, and before we reached the end 
of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were lament- 
ably broken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones. 
Issuing from the mountain we found another plain. 
All around it stood a circle of lofty precipices, that 
seemed the impersonation of Silence and Solitude. 
Here again the Indians had encamped, as well they 
might, after passing with their women, children, 
and horses through the gulf behind us. In one day 
we had made a journey which had cost them three 
to accomplish. 

The only outlet to this amphitheater lay over a 
hill some two hundred feet high, up which we moved 
with difficulty. Looking from the top, we saw that 
at last we were free of the mountains. The prairie 
spread before us, but so wild and broken that the 
view was everywhere obstructed. Far on our left 
one tall hill swelled up against the sky, on the smooth, 
pale green surface of which four slowly moving 



HUNTING INDIANS 267 

black specks were discernible. They were evidently 
buffalO; and we hailed the sight as a good augury; 
for where the buffalo were, there too the Indians 
would probably be found. We hoped on that very 
night to reach the village. We were anxious to do 
so for a double reason, wishing to bring our weari- 
some joiirney to an end, and knowing, moreover, 
that though to enter the village in broad daylight 
would be a perfectly safe experiment, yet to encamp 
in its vicinity would be dangerous. But as we rode 
on, the sun was sinking, and soon was within half an 
hour of the horizon. We ascended a hill and looked 
round us for a spot for our encampment. The prairie 
was like a turbulent ocean, suddenly congealed w^ien 
its waves were at the highest, and it lay half in light 
and half in shadow, as the rich sunshine, yellow as 
gold, was pouring over it. The rough bushes of the 
wild sage were growing everywhere, its dull pale 
green overspreading hill and hollow. Yet a little 
way before us, a bright verdant line of grass was 
winding along the plain, and here and there through- 
out its course water was glistening darkly. We 
went down to it, kindled a fire, and turned our horses 
loose to feed. It was a little trickling brook, that 
for some yards on either bank turned the barren 
prairie into fertility, and here and there it spread 
into deep pools, where the beaver had dammed it up. 
We placed our last remaining piece of the antelope 
before a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our 
exhausted stock of provisions. Just then an enor- 



268 THE OREGON TRAIL 

mous gray hare, peculiar to these prairies, came 
jumping along, and seated himself within fifty yards 
to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised my rifle to 
shoot him, but Raymond called out to me not to fire 
for fear the report should reach the ears of the 
Indians. That night for the first time we considered 
that the danger to which we were exposed was of a 
somewhat serious character; and to those who are 
unacquainted with Indians, it may seem strange that 
our chief apprehensions arose from the supposed 
proximity of the people whom we intended to visit. 
Had any straggling party of these faithful friends 
caught sight of us from the hill-top, they would 
probably have returned in the night to plunder us 
of our horses and perhaps of our scalps. But we 
were on the prairie, where the genius loci^ is at war 
with all nervous apprehensions; and I presume that 
neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the matter 
that evening. 

While he was looking after the animals, I sat by 
the fire engaged in the novel task of baking bread. 
The utensils were of the most simple and primitive 
kind, consisting of two sticks inclining over the bed 
of coals, one end thrust into the ground while the 
dough was twisted in a spiral form round the other. 
Under such circumstances all the epicurean in a 
man's nature is apt to awaken within him. I revisited 
in fancy the far distant abodes of good fare, not 
indeed Frascati's^ or the Trois Freres Provengaux, 
for that were too extreme a flight; but no other than 



HUNTING INDIANS 269 

the homely table of my old friend and host, Tom 
Crawford/ of the White Mountains. By a singular 
revulsion, Tom himseK, whom I well remember to 
have looked upon as the impersonation of all that 
is wild and backw^oodsmanlike, now appeared before 
me as the ministering angel of comfort and good 
living. Being fatigued and drowsy I began to doze, 
and my thoughts, following the same train of associa- 
tion, assumed another form. Half-dreaming, I 
saw myself surrounded with the mountains of New 
England, alive with water-falls, their black crags 
tinctured with milk-white mists. For this reverie 
I paid a speedy penalty; for the bread was black on 
one side and soft on the other. 

For eight hours Raymond and I, pillowed on our 
saddles, lay insensible as logs. Pauline's yellow 
head was stretched over me wdien I awoke. I got 
up and examined her. Her feet indeed were bruised 
and swollen by the accidents of yesterday, but her 
eye w^as brighter, her motions livelier, and her 
mysterious malady had visibly abated. We moved 
on, hoping within an hour to come in sight of the 
Indian village; but again disappointment awaited 
us. The trail disappeared, melting away upon a 
hard stony plain. Raymond and I separating, rode 
from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, 
until at length I discerned traces of the lodge-poles 
passing by the side of a ridge of rocks. We began 
again to follow them. 

^' What is that black spot out there on the prairie?'' 



270 THE OREGON TRAIL 

''It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond. 

We rode out to it, and found it to be the huge car- 
cass of a bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. 
Tangled hair and scraps of hide were scattered all 
around, for the wolves had been making merry over 
it, and had hollowed out the entire carcass. It was 
covered with myriads of large black crickets, and 
from its appearance must certainly have lain there 
for four or five days. The sight was a most dis- 
heartening one, and I observed to Raymond that the 
Indians might still be fifty or sixty miles before us. 
But he shook his head and replied that they dared 
not go so far for fear of their enemies, the Snakes. 

Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended 
a neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay 
a plain perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, 
without apparent limit, and bounded in front by a 
long broken line of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. 
All was open and exposed to view, yet not a buffalo 
nor an Indian was visible. 

"There! " said Raymond; '' now we had better turn 
around." 

But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, 
we descended the hill and began to cross the plain. 
We had come so far that I knew perfectly well neither 
Pauline's limbs nor my own could carry me back to 
Fort Laramie. I considered that the lines of expedi- 
ency and inclination tallied exactly, and that the most 
prudent course was to keep forward. The ground 
immediately around us was thickly strewn with the 



HUNTING INDIANS 271 

skulls and bones of buffalo, for here a year or two 
before the Indians had made a "surround"; yet 
no living game presented itself. At length, however, 
an antelope sprang up and gazed at us. We fired 
together, and by a singular fatality we both missed, 
although the animal stood, a fair mark, within 
eighty yards. This ill success might perhaps be 
charged to our own eagerness, for by this time we 
had no provision left except a little flour. We could 
discern several small lakes, or rather extensive pools 
of water, glistening in the distance. As we approached 
them, wolves and antelopes bounded away through 
the tall grass that grew in their vicinity, and flocks 
of large white plover flew screaming over their sur- 
face. Having failed of the antelope, Raymond 
tried his hand at the birds with the same ill success. 
The water also disappointed us. Its muddy margin 
was so beaten up by the crowd of buffalo that our 
timorous animals were afraid to approach. So we 
turned away and moved toward the hills. The 
rank grass, where it was not trampled down by the 
buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks. 

Again we found the same execrable barren prairie 
offering no clew by which to guide our way. As we 
drew near the hills an opening appeared, through 
which the Indians must have gone if they had passed 
that way at all. Slowly we began to ascend it. I 
felt the most dreary forebodings of ill success, when 
on looking around I could discover neither dent of 
hoof, nor footprint, nor trace of lodge-pole, though 



272 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the passage was encumbered by the ghastly skulls 
of buffalo. We heard thunder muttering; a storm 
was coming on. 

As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect be- 
yond began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long 
dark line of ragged clouds upon the horizon, while 
above them rose the peak of the Medicine-Bow, the 
vanguard of the Rocky Mountains; then little by 
little the plain came into view, a vast green uni- 
formity, forlorn and tenantless, though Laramie 
Creek glistened in a waving line over its surface, 
without a bush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, the 
round projecting shoulder of a hill intercepted a 
part of the view. I rode in advance, when suddenly 
I could distinguish a few dark spots on the prairie, 
along the bank of the stream. 

^'Buffalo!" said I. Then a sudden hope flashed 
upon me, and eagerly and anxiously I looked again. 

^^ Horses!" exclaimed Raymond, with a tremendous 
oath, lashing his mule forward as he spoke. More 
and more of the plain disclosed itself, and in rapid 
succession more and more horses appeared, scattered 
along the river bank, or feeding in bands over the 
prairie. Then, suddenly, standing in a circle by the 
stream, swarming with their savage inhabitants, 
we saw rising before us the tall lodges of the Ogall- 
allahs. Never did the heart of wanderer more 
gladden at the sight of home than did mine at the 
sight of those wild habitations! 



Jl 



CHAPTER XIII 

The Ogallallah Village 

Such a narrative as this is hardly the place for 
portraying the mental features of the Indians. " The 
same picture, slightly changed in shade and coloring, 
would serve with very few exceptions for all the tribes 
that lie north of the Mexican territories. But with 
this striking similarity in their modes of thought, 
the tribes of the lake and ocean shores, of the forests 
and of the plains, differ greatly in their manner of 
life. Having been domesticated for several weeks 
among one of the wildest of the wild hordes that 
roam over the remote prairies, I had extraordinary 
opportunities of observing them, and I flatter myself 
that a faithful picture of the scenes that passed daily 
before my eyes may not be devoid of interest and 
value. These men were thorough savages. Neither 
their manners nor their ideas were in the slightest 
degree modified by contact with civilization. They 
knew nothing of the power and real character of the 
white men, and their children would scream in terror 
at the sight of me. Their religion, their supersti- 
tions, and their prejudices were the same that had 
been handed down to them from immemorial time. 
They fought with the same weapons that their 

273 



274 THE OREGON TRAIL 

fathers fought with, and wore the same rude gar- 
ments of skins. 

Great changes are at hand in that region. With 
the stream of emigration to Oregon and California, 
the buffalo will dwindle away, and the large w^ander- 
ing communities who depend on them for support 
must be broken and scattered. The Indians will 
soon, be corrupted by the example of the whites, 
abased by whisky, and overawed by military posts; 
so that within a few years the traveler may pass in 
tolerable security through their country. Its danger 
and its charm will have disappeared together. 

As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village 
from the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn; 
keen eyes were constantly on the watch. As we rode 
down upon the plain, the side of the village nearest us 
was darkened with a crowd of naked figures gathering 
around the lodges. About a dozen men came forward 
to meet us. I could distinguish among them the green 
blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. When we came 
up the ceremony of shaking hands had to be gone 
through with in due form, and then all were eager to 
know what had become of the rest of my party. I 
satisfied them on this point, and we all moved forward 
together toward the village. 

"You've missed it," said Reynal; "if you'd been 
here day before yesterday, you'd have found the 
whole prairie over yonder black with buffalo so far 
as you could see. There were no cows, though; 
nothing but bulls. We made a ^ surround ' every day 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 275 

till yesterday. See the village there; don't that look 
like good living?" 

In fact I could see, even at that distance, that long 
cords were stretched from lodge to lodge, over which 
the meat, cut by the squaws into thin sheets, was 
hanging to. dry in the sun. I noticed too that the 
village was somewhat smaller than when I had last 
seen it, and I asked Reynal the cause. He said that 
old Le Borgne had felt too weak to pass over the 
mountains, and so had remained behind with his 
relations, including Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers. 
The Whirlwind too had been unwilling to come so 
far, because, as Reynal said, he was afraid. Only 
half a dozen lodges had adhered to him, the main 
body of the village setting their chief's authority at 
naught, and taking the course most agreeable to their 
inclinations. 

''What chiefs are there in the village now?" said I. 

''Well," said Reynal, "there's old Red-Water, and 
The Eagle-Feather, and The Big Crow, and The Mad 
Wolf and The Panther, and The White-Shield, and— 
what's his name? — the half-breed Cheyenne." 

By this time we were close to the village, and I 
observed that while the greater part of the lodges 
were very large and neat in their appearance, there 
was at one side a cluster of squalid, miserable huts. 
I looked toward them, and made some remark about 
their wretched appearance. But I was touching 
upon delicate ground. 

"My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said 



276 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Reynal very warmly, " and there isn't a better set in 
the whole village." 

^^Are there any chiefs among them?" asked I. 

'^Chiefs?" said Reynal; '^yes, plenty!" 

''What are their names?" I inquired. 

''Their names? Why, there's The Arrow-Head. 
If he isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's 
The Hail-Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to be sure; 
but he's bound to be a chief one of these days!" 

Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and 
entered the great area of the village. Superb naked 
figures stood silently gazing on us with their keen dark 
eyes. 

"Where is The Bad Wound's lodge?" said I to 
Reynal. 

"There, you've missed it again! The Bad Wound 
is away with The Whirlwind. If you could have 
found him here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would 
have treated you better than any man in the village. 
But there's The Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to 
old Red- Water's. He's a good Indian for the whites, 
and I advise you to go and live with him." 

" Are there many squaws and children in his lodge?" 
said I. 

"No; only one squaw and two or three children. 
He keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves." 

So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond 
and I rode up to the entrance of The Big Crow's 
lodge. A scfuaw came out immediately and took our 
horses. I put aside the leather flap that covered 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 277 

the low opening, and stooping, entered The Big 
Crow's dwelling. There I could see the chief in the 
dim light, seated at one side, on a pile of buffalo-robes. 
He greeted me with a guttural ''How, cola!" I 
requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond and I 
were come to live with him. The Big Crow gave 
another low exclamation from the very depths of his 
broad chest. If the reader thinks that we were in- 
truding somewhat cavalierly, I beg him to observe 
that every Indian in the village would have deemed 
himself honored that white men should give such 
preference to his hospitality. 

The squaw spread a buffalo-robe for us in the 
guest's place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles 
were brought in, and scarcely were we seated upon 
them before the place was thronged with Indians, 
who came crowding in to see us. The Big Crow pro- 
duced his pipe and filled it with the mixture of 
tobacco and shongsasha, or red willow bark. Round 
and round it passed, from man to man, and a lively 
conversation went forward. Meanwhile a squaw 
placed before the two guests a wooden bowl of boiled 
buffalo meat, but unhappily this was not the only 
banquet destined to be inflicted on us. Rapidly, one 
after another, boys and young squaws thrust their 
heads in at the opening, to invite us to various feasts 
in different parts of the village. For half an hour or 
more we were actively engaged in passing from lodge 
to lodge, tasting in each of the bowl of meat set before 
us, and inhaling a whiff or two from our entertainer's 



278 THE OREGON TRAIL 

pipe. A thunderstorm that had been threatening 
for some time now began in good earnest. We 
crossed over to ReynaFs lodge, though it hardly 
deserved this name, for it consisted only of a few old 
buffalo-robes, supported on poles, and was quite open 
on one side. Here we sat down, and a dozen Indians 
gathered round us. 

''What is it," said I, "that makes the thunder?" 

''It's my belief," said Reynal, "that it is a big 
stone rolling over the sky." 

" Very likely," I replied; "but I want to know what 
the Indians think about it." 

So he interpreted my question, which seemed to 
produce some doubt and debate. There was 
evidently a difference of opinion. At last old Mene- 
Seela, or Red-Water, who sat by himself at one side, 
looked up with his withered face, and said he had 
always known what the thunder was. It was a great 
black bird; and once he had seen it, in a dream, 
swooping down from the Black Hills, with its loud 
roaring wings; and when it flapped them over a lake, 
they struck lightning from the water. 

"The thunder is bad," said another old man, who 
sat muffled in his buffalo-robe; ''he killed my brother 
last summer." 

Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation; 
but the old man remained doggedly silent, and would 
not look up. Some time after I learned how the 
accident occurred. The man who was killed belonged 
to an association which, among other mystic functions, 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 279 

claimed the exclusive power and privilege of fighting 
the thunder. Whenever a storm which they wished 
to avert was threatening, the thunder-fighters would 
take their bows and arrows, their guns, their magic 
drum, and a sort of whistle, made out of the wingbone 
of the war-eagle. Thus equipped, they would run 
out and fire at the rising cloud, whooping, yelling, 
whistling, and beating their drum, to frighten it 
down again. One afternoon a heavy black cloud 
was coming up, and they repaired to the top of a hill, 
where they brought all their magic artillery into play 
against it. But the undaunted thunder, refusing to 
be terrified, kept moving straight onward, and darted 
out a bright flash which struck one of the party dead 
as he was in the very act of shaking his long iron- 
pointed lance against it. The rest scattered and ran 
yelling in an ecstasy of superstitious terror back to 
their lodges. 

The lodge of my host Kongra-Tonga, or The Big 
Crow, presented a picturesque spectacle that evening. 
A score or more of Indians were seated around in a 
circle, their dark naked forms just visible by the dull 
light of the smouldering fire in the center. The pipe 
glowed brightly in the gloom as it passed from hand 
to hand round the lodge. Then a squaw would step 
forward and drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull 
embers. Instantly a bright glancing flame would 
leap up, darting its clear light to the very apex of the 
tall conical structure, where the tops of the slender 
poles that supported its covering of leather were 



280 THE OREGON TRAIL 

gathered together. It gilded the features of the 
Indians, as with animated gestures they sat around it, 
telling their endless stories of war and hunting. It 
displayed rude garments of skins that hung around the 
lodge; the bow, quiver, and lance suspended over 
the resting-place of the chief, and the rifles and powder- 
horns of the two white guests. For a moment all 
would be bright as day; then the flames would die 
away, and the fitful flashes from the embers would 
illumine the lodge, and then leave it in darkness. 
Then all the light would wholly fade, and the lodge 
and all within it be involved again in obscurity. 

As I left the lodge the next morning, I was saluted 
by howling and yelping from all around the village, 
and half its canine population rushed forth to the 
attack. Being as cowardly as they were clamorous, 
they kept jumping around me at the distance of a few 
yards, only one little cur, about ten inches long, 
having spirit enough to make a direct assault. He 
dashed valiantly at the leather tassel which in the 
Dahcotah fashion was trailing behind the heel of my 
moccasin, and kept his hold, growling and snarling 
all the while, though every step I made almost jerked 
him over on his back. As I knew that the eyes of 
the whole village were on the watch to see if I showed 
any sign of apprehension, I walked forward without 
looking to the right or left, surrounded wherever I 
went by this magic circle of dogs. When I came to 
Reynal's lodge I sat down by it, on which the dogs 
dispersed growling to their respective quarters. Only 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 281 

one large white one remained, who kept running about 
before me and showing his teeth. I called him, but 
he only growled the more. I looked at him well. 
He was fat and sleek; just such a dog as I wanted. 
'^My friend," thought I, ^^you shall pay for this! I 
will have you eaten this very morning!" 

I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by 
way of conveying a favorable impression of my 
character and dignity; and a white dog is the dish 
which the customs of the Dahcotahs prescribe for all 
occasions of formality and importance. I consulted 
Reynal; he soon discovered that an old woman in the 
next lodge was owner of the white dog. I took a 
gaudy cotton handkerchief, and laying it on the ground, 
arranged some vermilion, beads, and other trinkets 
upon it. Then the old squaw was summoned. I 
pointed to the dog and to the handkerchief. She 
gave a scream of delight, snatched up the prize, and 
vanished with it into her lodge. For a few more 
trifles I engaged the services of two other squaws, 
each of whom took the white dog by one of his paws, 
and led him away behind the lodges, while he kept 
looking up at them with a face of innocent surprise. 
Having hammered him on the head with a stone 
mallet, they threw him into a fire to singe; then 
chopped him up and put him into two large kettles 
to boil. Meanwhile I told Raymond to fry in buffalo- 
fat what little flour we had left, and also to make a 
kettle of tea as an additional item of the repast. 

The Big Crow squaw was briskly at work sweeping 



282 THE OREGON TRAIL 

out the lodge for the approaching festivity. I con- 
fided to my host himself the task of inviting the guests, 
thinking that I might thereby shift from my own 
shoulders the odium of fancied neglect and oversight. 
When feasting is in question, one hour of the day 
serves an Indian as well as another. My entertain- 
ment came off at about eleven o'clock. At that hour, 
Reynal and Raymond walked across the area of the 
village, to the admiration of the inhabitants, carrying 
the two kettles of dog-meat slung on a pole between 
them. These they placed in the center of the lodge, 
and then went back for the bread and the tea. Mean- 
while I had put on a pair of brilliant moccasins, and 
substituted for my old buckskin frock a coat which I 
had brought with me in view of such public occasions. 
I also made careful use of the razor, an operation 
which no man will neglect who desires to gain the good 
opinion of Indians. Thus attired, I seated myself 
between Reynal and Raymond at the head of the 
lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before all the 
guests had come in and were seated on the ground, 
wedged together in a close circle around the lodge. 
Each brought with him a wooden bowl to hold his 
share of the repast. When all were assembled, two 
of the officials called "soldiers" by the white men, 
came forward with ladles made of the horn of the 
Rocky Mountain sheep, and began to distribute the 
feast, always assigning a double share to the old men 
and chiefs. The dog vanished with astonishing 
celerity, and each guest turned his dish bottom up- 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 283 

ward to show that all was gone. Then the bread was 
distributed in its turn, and finally the tea. As the 
soldiers poured it out into the same wooden bowls 
that had served for the substantial part of the meal, 
I thought it had a particularly curious and uninviting 
color. 

"Oh!" said Reynal, "there was not tea enough, so 
I stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look 
strong." 

Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very dis- 
criminating. The tea w^as well sweetened, and that 
was all they cared for. 

Now the former part of the entertainment being 
concluded, the time for speech-making was come. 
The Big Crow produced a flat piece of wood on w^hich 
he cut up tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed them in 
due proportions. The pipes were filled and passed 
from hand to hand around the company. Then I 
began my speech, each sentence being interpreted by 
Reynal as I went on, and echoed by the whole audience 
with the usual exclamations of assent and approval. 
As nearly as I can recollect, it was as follows: 

I had come, I told them, from a country so far 
distant, that at the rate they travel, they could not 
reach it in a year. 

"How! how!" 

"There the Meneaska were more numerous than 
the blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were 
far more beautiful than they had ever seen, and all 
the men were brave warriors." 



284 THE OREGON TRAIL 

^^How! how! how!" 

Here I was assailed by sharp twinges of conscience, 
for I fancied I could perceive a fragrance of perfumery 
in the air, and vision rose before me of white kid 
gloves and silken mustaches with the mild and gentle 
countenances of numerous fair-haired young men. 
But I recovered myself and began again. 

" While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had 
heard of the Ogallallahs, how great and brave a nation 
they were, how they loved the whites, and how well 
they could hunt the buffalo and strike their enemies. 
I resolved to come and see if all that I heard was 
true." 

"How! how! how! how!" 

"As I had come on horseback through the moun- 
tains, I had been able to bring them only a very few 
presents." 

"How!" 

" But I had enough tobacco to give them all a 
small piece. They might smoke it, and see how 
much better it was than the tobacco which they got 
from the traders." 

"How! how! how!" 

"I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco 
at Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, 
and if any of them should come to the fort before I 
went away, I would make them handsome presents." 

"How! how! how! how!" 

Raymond then cut up and distributed among them 
two or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 285 

began to make a reply. It was quite long, but the 
following was the pith of it: 

He had always loved the whites. They were the 
wisest people on earth. He believed they could do 
everything, and he was always glad when any of 
them came to live in the Ogallallah lodges. It was 
true I had not made them many presents, but the 
reason of it was plain. It was clear that I liked them, 
or I never should have come so far to find their 
village. 

Several other speeches of similar import followed, 
and then this more serious matter being disposed of, 
there was an interval of smoking, laughing, and con- 
versation, but old Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted 
it with a loud voice: 

"Now is a good time," he said, '^when all the old 
men and chiefs are here together, to decide what the 
people shall do. We came over the mountain to 
make our lodges for next year. Our old ones are 
good for nothing: they are rotten and worn out. But 
we have been disappointed. We have killed buffalo 
bulls enough, but we have found no herds of cows, 
and the skins of bulls are too thick and heavy for our 
squaws to make lodges of. There must be plenty of 
cows about the Medicine- Bow Mountain. We ought 
to go there. To be sure it is further westward than 
we have ever been before, and perhaps the Snakes 
will attack us, for those hunting-grounds belong to 
them. But we must have new lodges at any rate; 
our old ones will not serve for another year. We 



286 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ought not to be afraid of the Snakes. Our warriors 
are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, 
we have three white men with their rifles to help us." 

I could not help thinking that the old man relied a 
little too much on the aid of allies, one of whom Avas 
a coward, another a blockhead, and the third an 
invalid. This speech produced a good deal of debate. 
As Reynal did not interpret what was said, I could 
only judge of the meaning by the features and gestures 
of the speakers. At the end of it, however, the 
greater number seemed to have fallen in with Mene- 
Seela's opinion. A short silence followed, and then 
the old man struck up a discordant chant, which I 
was told was a song of thanks for the entertainment 
I had given them. 

'^Now," said he, ^'let us go and give the white men 
a chance to breathe." 

So the company all dispersed into the open air, 
and for some time the old chief was walking round 
the village, singing his song of praise of the feast, 
after the usual custom of the nation. 

At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun went 
down the horses came trooping from the surrounding 
plains to be picketed before the dwellings of their 
respective masters. Soon within the great circle of 
lodges appeared another concentric circle of restless 
horses; and here and there fires were glowing and 
flickering amid the gloom on the dusky figures around 
them. I went over and sat by the lodge of Reynal. 
The Eagle-Feather, who was a son of Mene-Seela, and 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 287 

brother of my host The Big Crow, was seated there 
ah'eady, and I asked him if the village would move 
in the morning. He shook his head, and said that 
nobody could tell, for since old Mahto-Tatonka had 
died, the people had been like children that did not 
know their own minds. They were no better than a 
l^ody without a head. So I, as well as the Indians 
themselves, fell asleep that night without knowing 
whether we should set out in the morning toward the 
country of the Snakes. 

At daybreak, however, as I was coming up from the 
river after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a 
movement was contemplated. Some of the lodges 
were reduced to nothing but bare skeletons of poles; 
the leather covering of others was flapping in the 
wind as the squaws were pulling it off. One or two 
chiefs of note had resolved, it seemed, on moving; and 
so having set their squaws at work, the example was 
tacitly followed by the rest of the village. One by 
one the lodges were sinking down in rapid succession, 
and where the great circle of the village had been only 
a moment before, nothing now remained but a ring 
of horses and Indians, crowded in confusion together. 
The ruins of the lodges were spread over the ground, 
together with kettles, stone mallets, great ladles of 
horn, buffalo robes, and cases of painted hide, filled 
with dried meat. Squaws bustled about in their 
busy preparations, the old hags screaming to one 
another at the stretch of their leathern lungs. The 
shaggy horses were patiently standing while the lodge- 



288 THE OREGON TRAIL 

poles were lashed to their sides, and the baggage 
piled upon their backs. The dogs, with their tongues 
lolling out, lay lazily panting, and waiting for the 
time of departure. Each warrior sat on the ground 
by the decaying embers of his fire, unmoved amid all 
the confusion, while he held in his hand the long trail- 
rope of his horse. 

As their preparations were completed, each family 
moved off the ground. The crowd was rapidly 
melting away. I could see them crossing the river, 
and passing in quick succession along the profile of the 
hill on the farther bank. When all were gone, I 
mounted and set out after them, followed by Ray- 
mond, and as we gained the summit, the whole village 
came in view at once, straggling away for a mile or 
more over the barren plains before us. Everywhere 
the iron points of lances were glittering. The sun 
never shone upon a more strange and motley array. 
Here were the heavy-laden pack horses, some wretched 
old women leading them, and two or three children 
clinging to their backs. Here were mules or ponies 
covered from head to tail with gaudy trappings, and 
mounted by some gay young squaw, grinning bash- 
fulness and pleasure as the Meneaska looked at her. 
Boys with miniature bows and arrows were wandering 
over the plains, little naked children were running 
along on foot, and numberless dogs were scampering 
among the feet of the horses. The young braves, 
gaudy with paint and feathers, were riding in groups 
among the Growd, and often galloping, two or three 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 289 

at once along the line, to try the speed of their horses. 
Here and there you might see a rank of sturdy pedes- 
trians stalking along in their white buffalo robes. 
These were the dignitaries of the village, the old men 
and warriors, to whose age and experience that 
wandering democracy yielded a silent deference. 
With the rough prairie and the broken hills for its 
background, the restless scene was striking and 
picturesque beyond description. Days and weeks 
made me familiar with it, but never impaired its effect 
upon my fancy. I had never seen, and I do not 
believe that the world can show, a spectacle more 
impressive than the march of a large Indian village 
over the prairies. 

As we moved on, the broken column grew yet more 
scattered and disorderly, until, as we approached the 
foot of a hill, I saw the old men before mentioned 
seating themselves in a line upon the ground, in 
advance of the whole. They lighted a pipe and sat 
smoking, laughing, and telling stories, while the 
people, stopping as they successively came up, were 
soon gathered in a crowd behind them. Then the 
old men rose, drew their buffalo robes over their 
shoulders, and strode on as before. Gaining the top 
of the hill, we found a very steep declivity before us. 
There was not a minute's pause. The whole descended 
in a mass, amid dust and confusion. The horses 
braced their feet as they slid down, women and 
children were screaming, dogs yelping as they were 
trodden upon, while stones and earth went rolling to 



290 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the bottom. In a few moments I could see them 
from the summit, spreading again far and wide over 
the plain below. 

At our encampment that afternoon 1 was attacked 
anew by my old disorder. In half an hour the 
strength that I had been gaining for a week past had 
vanished again, and I became like a man in a dream. 
But at sunset I lay down in The Big Crow's lodge 
and slept, totally unconscious till the morning. The 
first thing that awakened me was a hoarse flapping 
over my head, and a sudden light that poured in upon 
me. The camp was breaking up, and the squaws 
were moving the covering from the lodge. I arose 
and shook off my blanket with the feeling of perfect 
health; but scarcely had I gained my feet when a 
sense of my helpless condition was once more forced 
upon me, and I found myself scarcely able to stand. 
Raymond had brought up Pauline and the mule, and 
I stooped to raise my saddle from the ground. My 
strength was quite inadequate to the task. '^You 
must saddle her," said I to Raymond, as I sat down 
again on a pile of buffalo robes: 

"Et hsec etiam fortasse meminisse juvabit,"^ 

I thought, while with a painful effort I raised myself 
into the saddle. Half an hour after, even the expec- 
tation that Virgil's line expressed seemed destined 
to disappointment. As we were passing over a great 
plain, surrounded by long broken ridges, I rode 
slowly in advance of the Indians, wath thoughts that 






THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 291 

wandered far from the time and from the place. 
Suddenly the sky darkened, and thunder began to 
mutter. Clouds were rising over the hills, as dreary 
and dull as the first forebodings of an approaching 
calamity; and in a moment all around was wrapped 
in obscurity and gloom. I looked behind. The 
Indians had stopped to prepare for the approaching 
storm, and the dark, dense mass of savages stretched 
far to the right and left. Since the first attack of 
my disorder the effects of rain upon me had usually 
been injurious in the extreme. I had no strength 
to spare, having at that moment scarcely enough to 
keep my seat on horseback. Then, for the first time, 
it pressed upon me as a strong probability that I 
might never leave those deserts. "Well," thought 
I to myself, " a prairie makes quick and sharp work. 
Better to die here, in the saddle to the last, than to 
stifle in the hot air of a sick chamber; and a thousand 
times better than to drag out life, as many have 
done, in the helpless inaction of lingering disease." 
So, drawing the buffalo robe on which I sat over my 
head, I waited till the storm should come. It broke 
at last with a sudden burst of fury, and passing away 
as rapidly as it came, left the sky clear again. My 
reflections served me no other purpose than to look 
back upon as a piece of curious experience; for the 
rain did not produce the ill effects that I had expected. 
We encamped within an hour. Having no change 
of clothes, I contrived to borrow a curious kind of 
substitute from Reynal: and this done, I went home. 



292 THE OREGON TRAIL 

that is, to The Big Crow's lodge, to make the entire 
transfer that was necessary. Half a dozen squaws 
were in the lodge, and one of them taking my arm 
held it against her own, while a general laugh and 
scream of admiration was raised at the contrast in 
the color of the skin. 

Our encampment that afternoon was not far 
distant from a spur of the Black Hills, whose ridges, 
bristling with fir trees, rose from the plains a mile 
or two on our right. That they might move more 
rapidly toward their proposed hunting-grounds, 
the Indians determined to leave at this place their 
stock of dried meat and other superfluous articles. 
Some left even their lodges, and contented them- 
selves with carrying a few hides to make a shelter 
from the sun and rain. Half the inhabitants set out 
in the afternoon, with loaded pack horses, toward 
the mountains. Here they suspended the dried 
meat upon trees, where the wolves and grizzly bears 
could not get at it. All returned at evening. Some 
of the young men declared that they had heard the 
reports of guns among the mountains to the eastward, 
and many surmises were thrown out as to the origin 
of these sounds. For my part, I was in hopes that 
Shaw and Henry Chatillon were coming to join us. 
I would have welcomed them cordially, for I had no 
other companions than two brutish white men 
and five hundred savages. I little suspected that 
at that very moment my unlucky comrade was lying 
on a buffalo robe at Fort Laramie, fevered with ivy 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 293 

poison, and solacing his woes with tobacco and 
Shakspere. 

As we moved over the plains on the next morning 
several young men were riding about the country 
as scouts; and at length we began to see them occa- 
sionally on the tops of the hills, shaking their robes 
as a signal that they saw buffalo. Soon after some 
bulls came in sight. Horsemen darted away in 
pursuit, and we could see from the distance that one 
or two of the buffalo were killed. Raymond suddenly 
became inspired. I looked at him as he rode by my 
side; his face had actually grown intelligent. 

''This is the country for me!" he said; ''if I could 
only carry the buffalo that are killed here every 
month down to St. Louis I'd make my fortune in 
one winter. I'd grow as rich as old Papin, or Mac- 
kenzie either. I call this the poor man's market. 
When I'm hungry I have only got to take my rifle 
and go out and get better meat than the rich folks 
down below can get with all their money. You 
won't catch me living in St. Louis another winter." 

"No," said Reynal, "you had* better say that after 
you and your Spanish woman almost starved to death 
there. What a fool you were ever to take her to the 
settlement." 

"Your Spanish woman?" said I; "I never heard 
of her before. Are you married to her?" 

"No," answered Raymond, again looking intelli- 
gent; "the priests don't marry their women, and why 
should I marry mine?" 



294 THE OREGON TRAIL 

This honorable mention, of the Mexican clergy 
introduced the subject of religion, and I found that 
my two associates, in common with other white men 
in the country, were as indifferent to their future 
welfare as men whose lives are in constant peril are 
apt to be. Raymond had never heard of the Pope. 
A certain bishop, who lived at Taos,^ or at Sante Fe, 
embodied his loftiest idea of an ecclesiastical digni- 
tary. Reynal observed that a priest had been at 
Fort Laramie two years ago, on his way to the Nez 
Perce mission, and that he had confessed all the men 
there and given the absolution. ^'I got a good 
clearing out myself that time," said Reynal, "and 
I reckon that will do for me till I go down to the 
settlements again." 

Here he interrupted himself with an oath and 
exclaimed: "Look! look! The Panther is running 
an antelope!" 

The Panther, on his black and white horse, one of 
the best in the village, came at full speed over the 
hill in hot pursuit of an antelope that darted away 
like lightning before him. The attempt was made 
in mere sport and bravado, for very few are the horses 
that can for a moment compete in swiftness with 
this little animal. The antelope ran down the hill 
toward the main body of the Indians who were 
moving over the plain below. A dozen sharp yells 
were given and horsemen galloped out to intercept 
his flight. At this he turned sharply to the left and 
scoured away with such incredible speed that he 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 295 

distanced all his pursuers and even the vaunted 
horse of The Panther himself. A few moments after 
we witnessed a more serious sport. A shaggy buffalo 
bull bounded out from a neighboring hollow, and 
close behind him came a slender Indian boy, riding 
without stirrups or saddle and lashing his eager 
little horse to full speed. Yard after yard he drew 
closer to his gigantic victim, though the bull, with 
his short tail erect and his tongue lolling out a foot 
from his foaming jaws, was straining his unwieldy 
strength to the utmost. A moment more and the boy 
was close alongside of him. It was our friend The 
Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on his horse's 
neck and jerked an arrow like lightning from the 
quiver at his shoulder. 

"1 tell you," said Reynal, 'Hhat in a year's time 
that boy will match the best hunter in the village. 
There he has given it to him! and there goes another! 
You feel well, now, old bull, don't you, with two 
arrows stuck in your lights? There, he has given 
him another! Hear how The Hail-Storm yells when 
he shoots! Yes, jump at him; try it again, old fellow! 
You may jump all day before you get your horns 
into that pony!" 

The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, 
but the horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. 
At length the bull followed up his attack with a 
furious rush, and The Hail-Storm was put to flight, 
the shaggy monster following close behind. The 
boy clung in his seat like a leech, and secure in the 



296 THE OREGON TRAIL 

speed of his little pony, looked round toward us and 
laughed. In a moment he was again alongside of 
the bull, who was now driven to complete despera- 
tion. His eyeballs glared through his tangled mane, 
and the blood flew from his mouth and nostrils. 
Thus, still battling with each other, the two enemies 
disappeared over the hill. 

Many of the Indians rode at full gallop toward the 
spot. We followed at a more moderate pace, and 
soon saw the bull lying dead on the side of the hill. 
A dozen or more Indians were gathered around him, 
and several knives were already at work. These 
little instruments were plied with such wonderful 
address that the twisted sinews w^ere cut apart, the 
ponderous bones fell asunder as if by magic, and in a 
moment the vast carcass was reduced to a heap of 
bloody ruins. The surrounding group of savages 
offered no very attractive spectacle to a civilized eye. 
Some were cracking -the huge thigh-bones and de- 
vouring the marrow within; others were cutting 
away pieces of the liver and other approved morsels, 
and swallowing them on the spot with the appetite 
of wolves. The faces of most of them, besmeared 
with blood from ear to ear, looked grim and horrible 
enough. My friend The White Shield proffered me 
a marrow bone, so skilfully laid open that all the 
rich substance within was exposed to view at once. 
Another Indian held out a large piece of the delicate 
lining of the paunch; but these courteous offerings 
I begged leave to decline. I noticed one little boy 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 297 

who was very busy with his knife about the jaws 
and throat of the buffalo, from which he extracted 
some morsel of peculiar delicacy. It is but fair to 
say that only certain parts of the animal are con- 
sidered eligible in these extempore banquets. The 
Indians would look with abhorrence on any one who 
should partake indiscriminately of the newly killed 
carcass. 

We encamped that night, and marched westw^ard 
through the greater part of the following day. On the 
next morning we again resumed our journey. It was 
the seventeenth of July, unless my notebook mis- 
leads me. At noon we stopped by some pools of 
rain-water, and in the afternoon again set forward. 
This double movement was contrary to the usual 
practice of the Indians, but all were very anxious 
to reach the hunting ground, kill the necessary num- 
ber of buffalo, and retreat as soon as possible from 
the dangerous neighborhood. I pass by for the 
present some curious incidents that occurred during 
these marches and encampments. Late in the 
afternoon of the last mentioned day we came upon 
the banks of a little sandy stream, of which the 
Indians could not tell the name; for they were very 
ill acquainted with that part of the country. So 
parched and arid were the prairies around that they 
could not supply grass enough for the horses to feed 
upon, and w^e were compelled to move farther and 
farther up the stream in search of ground for en- 
campment. The country was much wilder than 



298 THE OREGON TRAIL 

before. The plains were gashed with ravines and 
broken into hollows and steep declivities, which 
flanked our course, as, in long scattered array, the 
Indians advanced up the side of the stream. Mene- 
Seela consulted an extraordinary oracle to instruct 
him where the buffalo were to be found. When he 
with the other chiefs sat down on the grass to smoke 
and converse, as they often did during the march, 
the old man picked up one of those enormous black- 
and-green crickets, which the Dahcotahs call by a 
name that signifies "They who point out the buffalo. '^ 
The Root-Diggers, a wretched tribe beyond the 
mountains, turn them to good account by making 
them into a sort of soup, pronounced by certain 
unscrupulous trappers to be extremely rich. Hold- 
ing the bloated insect respectfully between his fin- 
gers and thumb, the old Indian looked attentively 
at him and inquired, "Tell me, my father, where 
must we go to-morrow to find the buffalo?" The 
cricket twisted about his long horns in evident 
embarrassment. At last he pointed, or seemed to 
point, them westward. Mene-Seela, dropping him 
gently on the grass, laughed w^ith great glee, and 
said that if we went that way in the morning we 
should be sure to kill plenty of game. 

Toward evening we came upon a fresh green 
meadow, traversed by the stream, and deep-set 
among tall sterile l:)luffs. The Indians descended 
into it over a slight declivity; and as I was at the 
rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. Lances 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 299 

were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water 
below me was crowded with men and horses passing 
through, while the meadow beyond was swarming 
with the restless crowd of Indians. The sun was 
just setting, and as it poured its softened light upon 
them through an opening in the hills, the scene was 
impressively wild and picturesque. 

I remarked to Reynal that at last we had found a 
good camping-ground. 

"Oh, it is very good," replied he ironically; "espe- 
cially if there is a Snake war party about, and they 
take it into their heads to shoot down at us from the 
top of these hills. It is no plan of mine, camping 
in such a hole as this!" 

The Indians also seemed apprehensive. High up 
on the top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the 
bright evening sunlight, sat a naked warrior on horse- 
back, looking around, as it seemed, over the neigh- 
boring country; and Raymond told me that many 
of the young men had gone out in different directions 
as scouts. 

The shadows had reached to the very summit of 
the bluffs before the lodges were erected and the 
village reduced again to quiet and order. A cry 
was suddenly raised, and men, women, and children 
came running out with animated faces, and looked 
eagerly through the opening on the hills by which 
the stream entered from the westward. I could 
discern afar off some dark, heavy masses, passing 
over the sides of a low hill. They disappeared, and 



300 THE OREGON TRAIL 

then others followed. These were bands of buffalo- 
cows. The hunting-ground was reached at last, and 
everything promised well for the morrow's sport. 
Being fatigued and exhausted, I went and lay down 
in Kongra-Tonga's lodge, when Raymond thrust in 
his head, and called upon me to come and see some 
sport. A number of Indians were gathered, laughing, 
along the line of lodges on the western side of the 
village, and at some distance, I could plainly see in 
the twilight two huge black monsters stalking, heavily 
and solemnly, directly toward us. They were buffalo- 
bulls. The wind blew from them to the village, 
and such was their blindness and stupidity that they 
were advancing upon the enemy without the least 
consciousness of his presence. Raymond told me 
that two young men had hidden themselves with 
guns in a ravine about twenty yards in front of us. 
The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swinging 
from side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid 
dignity. They approached within four or five rods 
of the ravine where the two Indians lay in ambush. 
Here at last they seemed conscious that something 
was wrong, for they both stopped and stood perfectly 
still, without looking either to the right or to the left. 
Nothing of them was to be seen but two huge black 
masses of shaggy mane, with horns, eyes, and nose 
in the center, and a pair of hoofs visible at the bottom. 
At last the more intelligent of the two seemed to have 
concluded that it was time to retire. Very slowly, 
and with an air of the gravest and most majestic 



THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE 301 

deliberation, he began to turn around, as if he were 
revolving on a pivot. Little by little his ugly brown 
side was exposed to view. A white smoke sprang out, 
as it were from the ground; a sharp report came with 
it. The old bull gave a very undignified jump and 
galloped off. At this his comrade wheeled about 
with considerable expedition. The other Indian 
shot at him from the ravine, and then both the bulls 
were running away at full speed, while half the 
juvenile population of the village raised a yell and 
ran after them. The first bull soon stopped, and 
while the crowd stood looking at him at a respectful 
distance, he reeled and rolled over on his side. The 
other, wounded in a less vital part, galloped away to 
the hills and escaped. 

In half an hour it was totally dark. I la}^ down 
to sleep, and ill as I was, there was something very 
animating in the prospect of the general hunt that 
was to take place on the morrow. 



CHAPTER XIV 

The Hunting Camp 

The Perse out of Northamberlande 

And a vow to God mayde he, 
That he wolde hunte in the mountayns 

Off Chyviat within days thre, 
In the mauger of doughte Dogles 

And all that ever with him be. 

Chevy Chase. 

Long before daybreak the Indians broke up their 
camp. The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were as 
usual among the first that were ready for departure, 
and I found the old man himself sitting by the embers 
of the decayed fire, over which he was warming his 
withered fingers, as the morning was very chilly 
and damp. The preparations for moving were even 
more confused and disorderly than usual. While 
some families were leaving the ground the lodges of 
others were still standing untouched. At this old 
Mene-Seela grew impatient, and walking out to the 
middle of the village stood with his robe wrapped 
close around him, and harangued the people in a 
loud, sharp voice. Now, he said, when they were 
on an enemy's hunting grounds, was not the time 
to behave like children; they ought to be more active 

302 



THE HUNTING CAMP 303 

and united than ever. His speech had some effect. 
The delinquents took down their lodges and loaded 
their pack horses; and when the sun rose, the last 
of the men, women, and children had left the deserted 
camp. 

This movement was made merely for the purpose 
of finding a better and safer position. So we ad- 
vanced only three or four miles up the little stream, 
before each family assumed its relative place in the 
great ring of the village, and all around the sc^uaws 
were actively at work in preparing the camp. But 
not a single warrior dismounted from his horse. All 
the men that morning were mounted on inferior 
animals, leading their best horses by a cord, or con- 
fiding them to the care of small, slender boys. In 
parties of a dozen or more they began to leave the 
ground and ride rapidly away over the plains to the 
westward. For my part, I had taken no food that 
morning, and not being at all ambitious of farther 
abstinence, I went into my host's lodge, which his 
squaws had erected with wonderful celerity, and sat 
down in the center, as a gentle hint that I was hun- 
gry. A wooden bowl was soon set before me, filled 
with the nutritious preparation of dried meat called 
femmican by the northern voyagers and wasna by 
the Dahcotahs. Taking a handful to break my fast 
upon, I left the lodge just in time to see the last band 
of hunters disappear over the ridge of the neighbor- 
ing hill. 1 mounted Pauline and galloped in pursuit, 
riding rather by the balance than by any muscular 



304 THE OREGON TRAIL 

strength that remained to me. From the top of the 
hill I could overlook a wide extent of desolate and 
unbroken prairie, over which, far and near, little 
parties of naked horsemen were rapidly passing. 
I soon came up to the nearest, and we had not ridden 
a mile before all were united into one large and com- 
pact body. All was haste and eagerness. Each 
hunter was whipping on his horse, as if anxious to 
be the first to reach the game. In such movements 
among the Indians this is always more or less the 
case; but it was especially so in the present instance, 
because the head chief of the village was absent, 
and there were but few '^soldiers," a sort of Indian 
police, who among their other functions usually 
assume the direction of a buffalo hunt. No man 
turned to the right hand or to the left. We rode 
at a swift canter straight forward, uphill and down- 
hill, and through the stiff, obstinate growth of the 
endless wild-sage bushes. For an hour and a half 
the same red shoulders, the same long black hair 
rose and fell with the motion of the horses before me. 
Very little was said, though once I observed an old 
man severely reproving Raymond for having left 
his rifle behind him, when there was some probability 
of encountering an enemy before the day was over. 
As we galloped across a plain thickly set with sage 
bushes, the foremost riders vanished suddenly from 
sight, as if diving into the earth. The arid soil was 
cracked into a deep ravine. Down we all went in 
succession and galloped in a line along the bottom, 



I 



THE HUNTING CAMP 305 

until we found a point where, one by one, the horses 
could scramble out. Soon after, we came upon a 
wide shallow stream, and as we rode swiftly over 
the hard sand-beds and through the thin sheets of 
rippling water, many of the savage horsemen threw 
themselves to the ground, knelt on the sand, snatched 
a hasty draught, and leaping back again to their 
seats, galloped on again as before. 

Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party; 
and now we began to see them on the ridge of the hills, 
waving their robes in token that buffalo were visible. 
These, however, proved to be nothing more than old 
straggling bulls, feeding upon the neighboring plains, 
who would stare for a moment at the hostile array 
and then gallop clumsily off. At length we could 
discern several of these scouts making their signals 
to us at once; no longer waving their robes boldly 
from the top of the hill, but standing lower down, 
so that they could not be seen from the plains beyond. 
Game worth pursuing had evidently been discovered. 
The excited Indians now urged forward their tired 
horses even more rapidly than before. Pauline, who 
was still sick and jaded, began to groan heavily; 
and her yellow sides were darkened with sweat. 
As we were crowding together over a lower inter- 
vening hill, I heard Reynal and Raymond shouting 
to me from the left; and looking in that direction, 
I saw them riding away behind a party of about 
twenty mean-looking Indians. These were the rela- 
tives of Reynal's squaw Margot, who, not wishing 



306 THE OREGON TRAIL 

to take part in the general hunt, were riding toward 
a distant hollow, where they could discern a small 
band of buffalo which they meant to appropriate to 
themselves. I answered to the call by ordering 
Raymond to turn back and follow me. He reluc- 
tantly obeyed, though Reynal, who had relied on his 
assistance in skinning, cutting up, and carrying to 
camp the buffalo that he and his party should kill, 
loudly protested and declared that we should see no 
sport if we went with the rest of the Indians. Fol- 
lowed by Raymond, I pursued the main body of 
hunters, while Reynal in a great rage whipped his 
horse over the hill after his ragamuffin relatives. 
The Indians, still about a hundred in number, rode 
in a dense body at some distance in advance. They 
galloped rapidly forward, and a cloud of dust was 
flying in the wind behind them. I could not over- 
take them until they had stopped in a mass on the 
side of the hill where the scouts w^ere standing. Here, 
each hunter sprang in haste from the tired animal 
which he had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh 
and powerful horse that he had brought with him. 
There was not a saddle or a bridle in the whole party. 
A piece of buffalo robe girthed over the horse's back 
served in the place of the one, and a cord of twisted 
hair lashed firmly round his lower jaw answered for 
the other. Eagle feathers were dangling from every 
mane and tail, as badges of merit — insignia of courage 
and speed. As for the rider, he wore no other 
clothing than a light cincture at his waist, and a 



THE HUNTING CAMP 307 

pair of moccasins. He had a heavy whip, with a 
handle of solid elk-horn, and a lash of knotted bull- 
hide, fastened to his wrist by an ornamental band. 
His bow was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or 
panther skin hung at his shoulder. Thus equipped, 
some thirty of the hunters galloped away toward the 
left, in order to make a circuit under cover of the hills, 
that the buffalo might be assailed on both sides at 
once. The rest impatiently waited until time enough 
had elapsed for their companions to reach the re- 
quired position. Then riding upward in a body, we 
gained the ridge of the hill, and for the first time came 
in sight of the buffalo on the plain beyond. 

They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in 
number, who were crowded together near the bank 
of a wide stream that was soaking across the sand- 
beds of the valley. It was a large circular basin, 
sun-scorched and broken, scantily covered with 
herbage and encompassed with high barren hills, 
from an opening in which we could see our allies 
galloping out upon the plain. The wind blew from 
that direction. The buffalo were aware of their 
approach, and had begun to move, though very 
slowly and in a compact mass. I have no farther 
recollection of seeing the game until we were in the 
midst of them, for as we descended the hill other 
objects engrossed my attention. Numerous old 
bulls were scattered over the plain, and ungallantly 
deserting their charge at our approach, began to 
wade and plunge through the treacherous quick- 



308 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sands of the stream, and gallop away toward the 
hills. One old veteran was struggling behind all the 
rest with one of his forelegs, which had been broken 
by some accident, dangling about uselessly at his 
side. His appearance, as he went shambling along 
on three legs, was so ludicrous that 1 could not help 
pausing for a moment to look at him. As I came 
near, he would try to rush upon me, nearly throwing 
himself down at every awkward attempt. Looking 
up, I saw the whole body of Indians full a hundred 
yards in advance. I lashed Pauline in pursuit and 
reached them -just in time; for as we mingled among 
them, each hunter, as if by a common impulse, 
violently struck his horse, each horse sprang forward 
convulsively, and scattering in the charge in order 
to assail the entire herd at once, we all rushed head- 
long upon the buffalo. We were among them in an 
instant. Amid the trampling and the yells I could 
see the dark figures of the buffalo running hither 
and thither through clouds of dust, and the horse- 
men darting in pursuit. While we were charging on 
one side, our companions had attacked the bewildered 
and panic-stricken herd on the other. The uproar 
and confusion lasted but for a moment. The dust 
cleared away, and the buffalo could be seen scattering 
as from a common center, flying over the plain singly, 
or in long files and small compact bodies, while be- 
hind each followed the Indians, lashing their horses 
to furious speed, forcing them close upon their prey, 
and yelling as they launched arrow after arrow into 



THE HUNTING CAMP 309 

their sides. The large black carcasses were strewn 
thickly over the ground. Here and there wounded 
buffalo were standing, their bleeding sides feathered 
Avith arrows; and as I rode past them their eyes would 
glare, they would bristle like gigantic cats, and 
feebly attempt to rush up and gore my horse. 

I left camp that morning with a philosophic reso- 
lution. Neither I nor my horse were at that time 
fit for such sport, and I had determined to remain 
a quiet spectator; but amid the rush of horses and 
buffalo, the uproar and the dust, I found it impossi- 
ble to sit still; and as four or five buffalo ran past me 
in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit. We went plung- 
ing close at their heels through the water and the 
quicksands, and clambering the bank, chased them 
through the wild-sage bushes that covered the rising 
ground beyond. But neither her native spirit nor 
the blows of the knotted bull-hide could supply the 
place of poor Pauline's exhausted strength. We could 
not gain an inch upon the fugitives. At last, how- 
ever, they came full upon a ravine too wide to leap 
over; and as this compelled them to turn abruptly 
to the left,. I contrived to get within ten or twelve 
yards of the hindmost. At this she faced about, 
bristled angrily, and made a show of charging. I 
shot at her with a large holster pistol, and hit her 
somewhere in the neck. Down she tumbled into the 
ravine, whither her companions had descended 
before her. 1 saw their dark backs appearing and 
disappearing as they galloped along the bottom; 



310 THE OREGON TRAIL 

then, one by one, they came scrambling out on the 
other side and ran off as before, the wounded animal 
following with unabated speed. 

Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his 
black mule to meet me; and as we rode over the field 
together, we counted dozens of carcasses lying on the 
plain, in the ravines, and on the sandy bed of the 
stream. Far away in the distance, horses and buffalo 
were still scouring along, with little clouds of dust 
rising behind them; and over the sides of the hills 
we could see long files of the frightened animals 
rapidly ascending. The hunters began to return. 
The boys, who had held the horses behind the hill, 
made their appearance, and the work of flaying and 
cutting up began in earnest all over the field. I 
noticed my host Kongra-Tonga beyond the stream, 
just alighting by the side of a cow which he had 
killed. Riding up to him I found him in the act of 
drawing out an arrow, which, with the exception of 
the notch at the end, had entirely disappeared in 
the animal. I asked him to give it to me, and I 
still retain it as a proof, though by no means the 
most striking one that could be offered, of the force 
and dexterity with which the Indians discharge 
their arrows. 

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, 
and the hunters began to leave the ground. Ray- 
mond and I, too, getting tired of the scene, set out 
for the village, riding straight across the intervening 
desert. There was no path, and as far as I could see. 



THE HUNTING CAMP 311 

no landmarks sufficient to guide us, but Raymond 
seemed to have an instinctive perception of the 
point on the horizon toward which we ought to direct 
our course. Antelope were bounding on all sides 
of us, and as is always the case in the presence of 
buffalo, they seemed to have lost their natural shy- 
ness and timidity. Bands of a dozen or more would 
run lightly up the rocky declivities and stand gazing 
down upon us from the summit. At length we could 
distinguish the tall white rocks and the old pine trees 
that, as we well remembered, were just above the 
site of the encampment. Still, w^e could see nothing 
of the village itself until, ascending a grassy hill, 
we found the circle of lodges, dingy with storms and 
smoke, standing on the plain at our very feet. 

I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw in- 
stantly brought me food and water, and spread a 
buffalo robe for me to lie upon; and being much 
fatigued, I lay down and fell asleep. In about an 
hour the entrance of Kongra-Tonga, with his arms 
smeared with blood to the elbows, awoke me. He 
sat down in his usual seat on the left side of the lodge. 
His squaw gave him a vessel of water for washing, 
set before him a bowl of boiled meat, and as he was 
eating pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed 
fresh ones on his feet; then outstretching his limbs, 
my host composed himself to sleep. 

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, began 
to come rapidly in, and each, consigning his horses 
to the squaws, entered his lodge with the air of a 



312 THE OREGON TRAIL 

man whose day's work was done. The squaws 
flung down the load from the burdened horses, and 
vast piles of meat and hides were soon accumulated 
before every lodge. By this time it was darkening 
fast, and the whole village was illumined by the glare 
of fires blazing all around its circumference. All 
the squaws and children were gathered about the 
piles of meat, exploring them in search of the daintiest 
portions. Some of these they roasted on sticks 
before the fires, but often they dispensed with this 
superfluous operation. Late into the night the fires 
were still glowing upon the groups of feasters engaged 
in this savage banquet around them. 

Half a dozen hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra 
Tonga's lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among 
the rest, Mene-Seela came in. Though he must have 
seen full eighty winters, he had taken an active 
share in the day's sport. He boasted that he had 
killed two cows that morning, and would have killed 
a third if the dust had not blinded him so that he 
had to drop his bow and arrows and press both hands 
against his eyes to stop the pain. The firelight fell 
upon his wrinkled face and shriveled figure as he sat 
telling his story with such inimitable gesticulation 
that every man in the lodge broke into a laugh. 

Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in 
the village with whom I would have trusted myself 
alone without suspicion, and the only one from 
whom I would have received a gift or a service with- 
out the certainty that it proceeded from an interested 



THE HUNTING CAMP 313 

motive. He was a great friend to the whites. He 
liked to be in their society, and was very vain of 
the favors he had received from them. He told 
me one afternoon, as we were sitting together in his 
son's lodge, that he considered the beaver and the 
whites the wisest people on earth; indeed, he was 
convinced they were the same; and an incident which 
had happened to him long before had assured him 
of this. So he began the following story, and as the 
pipe passed in turn to him, Reynal availed himself 
of these interruptions to translate what had pre- 
ceded. But the old man accompanied his words 
with such admirable pantomime that translation 
was hardly necessary. 

He said that when he was very young, and had 
never yet seen a white man, he and three or four of 
his companions were out on a beaver hunt, and he 
craw^led into a large beaver lodge, to examine what 
was there. Sometimes he was creeping on his hands 
and knees, sometimes he was obliged to swim, and 
sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag himself 
along. In this way he crawled a great distance under- 
ground. It was very dark, cold, and close, so that at 
last he was almost suffocated, and fell into a swoon. 
When he began to recover, he could just distinguish 
the voices of his companions outside, who had given 
him up for lost, and were singing his death-song. At 
first he could see nothing, but soon he discerned some- 
thing white before him, and at length plainly distin- 
guished three people, entirely white; one man and two 



314 THE OREGON TRAIL 

women, sitting at the edge of a black pool of water. 
He became alarmed and thought it high time to 
retreat. Having succeeded, after great trouble, in 
reaching daylight again, he went straight to the spot 
directly above the pool of water where he had seen 
the three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole 
with his war club in the ground, and sat down to 
watch. In a moment the nose of an old male beaver 
appeared at the opening. Mene-Seela instantly 
seized him and dragged him up, when two other 
beavers, both females, thrust out their heads, and 
these he served in the same way. " These," continued 
the old man, " must have been the three white people 
whom I saw sitting at the edge of the water." 

Mene-Seela was the grand depository of the legends 
and traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, 
in getting from him only a few fragments. Like all 
Indians, he was excessively superstitious, and con- 
tinually saw some reason for witholding his stories. 
"It is a bad thing," he would say, "to tell the tales in 
summer. Stay with us till next winter, and I will 
tell you everything I know; but now our war parties 
are going out, and our young men will be killed if I 
sit down to tell stories before the frost begins." 

But to leave this digression. We remained en- 
camped on this spot five days, during three of which 
the hunters were at work incessantly, and immense 
quantities of meat and hides were brought in. The 
greatest alarm, however, prevailed in the village. All 
were on the alert. The young men were ranging 



THE HUNTING CAMP 315 

through the country as scouts, and the old men paid 
careful attention to omens and prodigies, and espe- 
cially to their dreams. In order to convey to the enemy 
(who, if they were in the neighborhood, must inevit- 
ably have known of our presence) the impression that 
we were constantly on the watch, piles of sticks and 
stones were erected on all the surrounding hills, in 
such a manner as to appear at a distance like sentinels. 
Often, even to this hour, that scene will rise before my 
mind like a visible reality: the tall white rocks; the 
old pine trees on their summits; the sandy stream 
that ran along their bases and half encircled the 
village; and the wild-sage bushes, with their dull 
green hue and their medicinal odor, that covered all 
the neighboring declivities. Hour after hour the squaws 
would pass and repass with their vessels of water 
between the stream and the lodges. For the most 
part no one was to be seen in the camp but women 
and children, two or three superannuated old men, and 
a few lazy and worthless young ones. These, together 
with the dogs, now grown fat and good-natured with 
the abundance in the camp, were its only tenants. 
Still it presented a busy and bustling scene. In all 
quarters the meat, hung on cords of hide, was drying 
in the sun, and around the lodges the squaws, young 
and old, were laboring on the fresh hides that were 
stretched upon the ground, scraping the hair from 
one side and the still adhering flesh from the other, 
and rubbing into them the brains of the buffalo, in 
order to render them soft and pliant. 



316 THE OREGON TRAIL 

In mercy to myself and my horse, I never went 
out with the hunters after the first day. Of late, 
however, I had been gaining strength rapidly, as was 
always the case upon every respite of my disorder. 
I was soon able to walk with ease. Raymond and I 
would go out upon the neighboring prairies to shoot 
antelope, or sometimes to assail straggling buffalo, 
on foot, an attempt in which we met with rather 
indifferent success. To kill a bull with a rifle-ball 
is a difficult art, in the secret of which I was as yet 
very imperfectly initiated. As I came out of Kongra- 
Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal called to me from 
the opposite side of the village; and asked me over to 
breakfast. The breakfast was a substantial one. It 
consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a 
repast absolutely unrivaled. It was roasting before 
the fire, impaled upon a stout stick, which Reynal 
took up and planted in the ground before his lodge; 
when he, with Raymond and myself, taking our seats 
around it, unsheathed our knives and assailed it with 
good will. In spite of all medical experience, this 
solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed to agree with 
me admirably. 

''We shall have strangers here before night," said 
Reynal. 

''How do you know that?" I asked. 

"I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an 
Indian. There is The Hail-Storm; he dreamed the 
same thing, and he and his crony, The Rabbit, have 
gone out on discovery." 



THE HUNTING CAMP 317 

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to 
my host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a 
mile or two on the prairie, saw an old bull standing 
alone, crawled up a ravine, shot him, and saw him 
escape. Then, quite exhausted and rather ill-humored, 
I walked back to the village. By a strange coinci- 
dence, Reynal' s prediction had been verified; for the 
first person whom I saw were the two trappers. 
Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me. These 
men, as the reader may possibly recollect, had left our 
party about a fortnight before. They had been 
trapping for a while among the Black Hills, and were 
now on their way to the Rocky Mountains, intending 
in a day or two to set out for the neighboring Medicine- 
Bow. They were not the most elegant or refined 
of companions, yet they made a very welcome addition 
to the limited society of the village. For the rest of 
that day we lay smoking and talking in Reynal's 
lodge. This indeed was no better than a little hut, 
made of hides stretched on poles, and entirely open in 
front. It was well carpeted with soft buffalo-robes, 
and here we remained, sheltered from the sun, sur- 
rounded by various domestic utensils of Madame 
Margot's household, her copper kettles and her horn 
spoons, her wooden dishes and bales of meat, together 
with the articles of her aboriginal wardrobe, well 
packed in cases of painted hide. All was quiet in the 
village. Though the hunters had not gone out that 
day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, and most of the 
women were silently engaged in their heavy tasks. 



318 THE OREGON TRAIL 

A few young men were playing at a lazy game of ball 
in the center of the village; and when they became 
tired, some girls supplied their place with a more 
boisterous sport. At a little distance, among the 
lodges, some children and half-grown squaws were 
playfully tossing up one of their number in a buffalo 
robe, an exact counterpart of the ancient pastime 
from which Sancho Panza^ suffered so much. Farther 
out on the prairie, a host of little naked boys were 
roaming about, engaged in various rough games, or 
pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their bows 
and arrows; and woe to the unhappy little animals 
that fell into their merciless, torture-loving hands! 
A squaw from the next lodge, a notable active house- 
wife named Weah Washtay, or Good Woman, brought 
us a large bowl of wasna, and went into an ecstasy of 
delight when I presented her with a green glass ring, 
such as I usually wore with a view to similar occasions. 
The sun went down and half the sky was growing 
fiery red, reflected on the little stream as it wound 
away among the sage-bushes. Some young men left 
the village, and soon returned, driving in before them 
all the horses, hundreds in number, and of every size, 
age, and -color. The hunters came out, and each 
securing those that belonged to him, examined their 
condition, and tied them fast by long cords to stakes 
driven in front of his lodge. It was half an hour 
before the bustle subsided and tranquillity was 
restored again. By this time it was nearly dark. 
Dozens of kettles were hung over the blazing fires, 



THE HUNTING CAMP 319 

around which the squaws, now that their day's work 
was done, were gathered with their children, laughing 
and talking merrily. A circle of a different kind was 
formed in the center of the village. This was com- 
posed of the old men and warriors of repute, who 
with their white buffalo robes drawn close around their 
shoulders, sat together, and as the pipe passed from 
hand to hand, their conversation had not a particle of 
the gravity and reserve usually ascribed to Indians. 
I sat down with them as I commonly did. I had in 
my hand half a dozen squibs and serpents, which I 
had made one day when encamped upon Laramie 
Creek, out of gunpowder and charcoal, and the leaves 
of ''Fremont's Expedition,"^ rolled round a stout 
lead-pencil. I waited till I contrived to get hold of 
the large piece of burning bois de vache which the 
Indians kept by them on the ground for lighting their 
pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworks at once, 
and tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the 
air, over the heads of the company. They all jumped 
up and ran off with yelps of astonishment and con- 
sternation. After a moment or two, they ventured 
to come back one by one, and some of the boldest, 
picking up the cases of burnt paper that were scattered 
about, examined them with eager curiosity to dis- 
cover their mysterious secret. From that time for- 
ward I enjoyed great repute as a ''fire-medicine." 

The camp was filled with the low hum of cheerful 
voices. There were other sounds, however, of a very 
different kind, for from a large lodge, lighted up like 



320 THE OREGON TRAIL 

a gigantic lantern by the blazing fire within, came a 
chorus of dismal cries and wailings, long drawn out, 
like the howling of wolves, and a woman, almost 
naked, was crouching close outside, crying violently, 
and gashing her legs with a knife till they were covered 
with blood. Just a year before, a young man belong- 
ing to this family had gone out with a war party and 
had been slain by the enemy, and his relatives were 
thus lamenting his loss. Still other sounds might 
be heard; loud earnest cries often repeated from amid 
the gloom, at a distance beyond the village. They 
proceeded from some young men who, being about to 
set out in a few days on a warlike expedition, were 
standing at the top of a hill, calling on the Great Spirit 
to aid them in their enterprise. While I was listening. 
Rouleau, with a laugh on his careless face, called to 
me and directed my attention to another quarter. 
In front of the lodge where Weah Washtay lived, 
another squaw was standing, angrily scolding an old 
yellow dog, who lay on the ground with his nose 
resting between his paws, and his eyes turned sleepily 
up to her face, as if he were pretending to give respect- 
ful attention, but resolved to fall asleep as soon as it 
was all over. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said the 
old woman. " I have fed you well, and taken care of 
you ever since you were small and blind, and could 
only crawl about and squeal a little, instead of howling 
as you do now. When you grew old, I said you were 
a good dog. You were strong and gentle when the 



.^ J 



THE HUNTING CAMP 321 

load was put on your back, and you never ran among 
the feet of the horses when we were all traveling together 
over the prairie. But you had a bad heart! When- 
ever a rabbit jumped out of the bushes, you were 
always the first to run after him and lead away all the 
other dogs behind you. You ought to have known 
that it was very dangerous to act so. When you had 
got far out on the prairie, and no one was near to help 
you, perhaps a wolf would jump out of the ravine; 
and then what could you do? You would certainly 
have been killed, for no dog can fight well with a load 
on his back. Only three days ago you ran off in 
that way, and turned over the bag of wooden pins 
with which I used to fasten up the front of the lodge. 
Look up there, and you wdll see that it is all flapping 
open. And now to-night you have stolen a great 
piece of fat meat which was roasting before the fire 
for my children. I tell you, you have a bad heart, 
and you must die!" 

So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and 
coming out with a large stone mallet, killed the unfor- 
tunate dog at one blow. This speech is worthy of 
notice as illustrating a curious characteristic of the 
Indians: the ascribing intelligence and a power of 
understanding speech to the inferior animals, to whom, 
indeed, according to many of their traditions, they are 
linked in close affinity, and they even claim the honor 
of a lineal descent from bears, wolves, deer, or tortoises. 

As it grew late, and the crowded population began 
to disappear, I too walked across the village to the 



322 THE OREGON TRAIL 

lodge of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I 
saw him, by the flickering blaze of the fire in the 
center, reclining half asleep in his usual place at my 
right. His couch was by no means an uncomfortable 
one. It consisted of soft buffalo-robes laid together 
on the ground, and a pillow made of whitened deer- 
skin stuffed with feathers and ornamented with 
beads. At his back was a light framew^ork of poles 
and slender reeds, against which he could lean with 
ease when in a sitting posture; and at the top of it, 
just above his head, his bow and quiver were hanging. 
His squaw, a laughing, broad-faced woman, appar- 
ently had not yet completed her domestic arrange- 
ments, for she was bustling about the lodge, pulling 
over the utensils and the bales of dried meats that 
were ranged carefully round it. Unhappily, she and 
her partner were not the only tenants of the dwelling, 
for half a dozen children were scattered about, 
sleeping in every imaginable posture. My saddle 
was in its place at the head of the lodge and a buffalo- 
robe was spread on the ground before it. Wrapping 
myself in my blanket 1 lay down, but had I not been 
extremely fatigued the noise in the next lodge would 
have prevented my sleeping. There was the monot- 
onous thumping of the Indian drum, mixed with 
occasional sharp yells, and a chorus chanted by 
twenty voices. A grand scene of gambling was 
going forward with all the appropriate formalities. 
The players were staking on the chance issue of the 
game their ornaments, their horses, and as the excite- 



THE HUNTING CAMP 323 

ment rose, their garments, and even their weapons, 
for desperate gambling is not confined to the hells of 
Paris. The men of the plains and the forests no less 
resort to it as a violent but grateful relief to the 
tedious monotony of their lives, which alternate 
between fierce excitement and listless inaction. I 
fell asleep with the dull notes of the drum still sound- 
ing on my ear, but I may as well observe that these 
furious orgies lasted without intermission till day- 
light. I was soon awakened by one of the children 
crawling over me, while another larger one was tug- 
ging at my blanket and nestling himself in a very 
disagreeable proximity. I immediately repelled these 
advances by punching the heads of these miniature 
savages with a short stick which I always kept by 
me for the purpose; and as sleeping half the day and 
eating much more than is good for them makes them 
extremely restless, this operation usually had to be 
repeated four or five times in the course of the night. 
My host himself was the author of another most for- 
midable annoyance. All these Indians, and he among 
the rest, think themselves bound to the constant per- 
formance of certain acts as the condition on which 
their success in life depends, whether in war, love, 
hunting, or any other employment. These "medi- 
cines," as they are called in that country, which are 
usually communicated in dreams, are often absurd 
enough. Some Indians will strike the butt of the 
pipe against the ground every time they smoke; 
others will insist that everything they say shall bQ 



324 THE OREGON TRAIL 

interpreted by contraries; and Shaw once met an old 
man who conceived that all would be lost unless he 
compelled every w^hite man he met to drink a bowl 
of cold water. My host was particularly unfortunate 
in his allotment. The Great Spirit had told him in a 
dream that he must sing a certain song in the middle 
of every night; and regularly at about twelve o'clock 
his dismal monotonous chanting would awaken me, 
and I would see him seated bolt upright on his couch, 
going through his dolorous performances with a most 
business-like air. There were other voices of the 
night still more inharmonious. Twice or thrice, 
between sunset and dawn, all the dogs in the village, 
and there were hundreds of them, would bay and yelp 
in chorus; a most horrible clamor, resembling no 
sound that I have ever heard, except perhaps the 
frightful howling of wolves that we used sometimes 
to hear long afterward when descending the Arkansas 
on the trail of General Kearney 's army.^ The canine 
uproar is, if possible, more discordant than the other. 
Heard at a distance, slowly rising on the night, it has 
a strange unearthly effect, and would fearfully haunt 
the dreams of a nervous man; but when you are 
sleeping in the midst of it the din is outrageous. One 
long loud howl from the next lodge perhaps begins it, 
and voice after voice takes up the sound till it passes 
around the whole circumference of the village, and 
the air is filled with confused and discordant cries, 
at once fierce and mournful. It lasts but for a 
moment and then dies away into silence. 



THE HUNTING CAMP 325 

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his 
horse, rode out with the hunters. It may not be 
amiss to glance at him for an instant in his domestic 
character of husband and father. Both he and his 
squaw, like most other Indians, were very fond of 
their children, whom they indulged to excess, and 
never punished, except in extreme cases when they 
would throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their 
offspring became sufficiently undutiful and dis- 
obedient under this system of education, which tends 
not a little to foster that wild idea of liberty and utter 
intolerance of restraint which lie at the very founda- 
tion of the Indian character. It would be hard to 
find a fonder father than my savage friend, Kongra- 
Tonga. There was one urchin in particular, rather 
less than two feet high, to whom he was exceedingly 
attached; and sometimes spreading a buffalo-robe 
in the lodge, he would seat himself upon it, place his 
small favorite upright before him, and chant in a low 
tone some of the words used as an accompaniment to 
the war-dance. The little fellow, who could just 
manage to balance himself by stretching out both 
arms, would lift his feet and turn slowly round and 
round in time to his father's music, while my host 
would laugh with delight, and look smiling up into 
my face to see if I were admiring this precocious 
performance of his offspring. In his capacity of 
husband he was somewhat less exemplary. The 
squaw who lived in the lodge with him had been his 
partner for many years. She took good care of his 



326 THE OREGON TRAIL 

children and his household concerns. He liked her 
well enough, and as far as I could see, they never 
quarreled; but all his warmer affections were reserved 
for younger and more recent favorites. Of these he 
had at present only one, wdio lived in a lodge apart 
from his own. One day while in his camp he became 
displeased with her, pushed her out, threw after her 
her ornaments, dresses, and everything she had, and 
told her to go home to her father. Having consum- 
mated this summary divorce, for which he could 
show good reasons, he came back, seated himself in 
his usual place, and began to smoke with an air of 
the utmost tranquillity and self-satisfaction. 

I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very 
afternoon, when I felt some curiosity to learn the 
history of the numerous scars that appeared on his 
naked body. Of some of them, however, I did not 
venture to inquire, for 1 already understood their 
origin. Each of his arms was marked as if deeply 
gashed with a knife at regular intervals, and there 
were other scars also, of a different character, on his 
back and on either breast. They were the traces of 
those formidable tortures which these Indians, in 
common with a few other tribes, inflict upon them- 
selves at certain seasons; in part, it may be, to gain 
the glory of courage and endurance, but chiefly as an 
act of self-sacrifice to secure the favor of the Great 
Spirit. The scars upon the breast and back were 
produced by running through the flesh strong splints 
of wood, to which ponderous buffalo-skulls are fas- 



THE HUNTING CAMP 327 

tened by cords of hide, and the wretch runs forward 
with all his strength, assisted by two companions, 
who take hold of each arm, until the flesh tears apart 
and the heavy loads are left behind. Others of 
Kongra-Tonga 's scars were the result of accidents; 
but he had many which he received in war. He was 
one of the most noted warriors in the village. In the 
course of his life he had slain, as he boasted to me, 
fourteen men; and though, like other Indians, he was 
a great braggart and utterly regardless of truth, yet 
in this statement common report bore him out. 
Being much flattered by my inquiries, he told me 
tale after tale, true or false, of his warlike exploits; 
and there was one among the rest illustrating the 
worst features of the Indian character too well for me 
to omit it. Pointing out of the opening of the lodge 
toward the Medicine-Bow Mountain, not many miles 
distant, he said that he was there a few summers ago 
with a war party of his young men. Here they 
found two Snake Indians, hunting. They shot one 
of them with arrows and chased the other up the side 
of the mountain till they surrounded him on a level 
place, and Kongra-Tonga himself, jumping forward 
among the trees, seized him by the arm. Two of his 
young men then ran up and held him fast while he 
scalped him alive. They then built a great fire, and 
cutting the tendons of their captive ^s wrists and feet, 
threw him in, and held him down with long poles until 
he was burnt to death. He garnished his story with 
a great many descriptive particulars much too 



328 THE OREGON TRAIL 

revolting to mention. His features were remarkably 
mild and open, without the fierceness of expression 
common among these Indians; and as he detailed 
these devilish cruelties, he looked up into my face 
with the same air of earnest simplicity which a little 
child would wear in relating to its mother some 
anecdote of its youthful experience. 

Old Mene-Seela 's lodge could offer another illustra- 
tion of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed, 
active little boy w^as living there. He had belonged 
to a village of the Gros-Ventre Blackfeet, a small but 
bloody and treacherous band, in close alliance with 
the Arapahoes. About a year before, Kongra-Tonga, 
The Eagle Feather, and a party of warriors had found 
about twenty lodges of these Indians upon the plains 
a little to the eastward of our present camp; and 
surrounding them in the night, they butchered men, 
women, and children without mercy, preserving only 
this little boy alive. He was adopted into the old 
man's family, and was now fast becoming identified 
with the Ogallallah children, among whom he mingled 
on equal terms. There was also a Crow warrior in 
the village, a man of gigantic stature and most sym- 
metrical proportions. Having been taken prisoner 
many years before and adopted by a squaw in place 
of a son whom she had lost, he had forgotten his old 
national antipathies, and was now both in act and 
inclination an Ogallallah. 

It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand 
warlike combination against the Snake and Crow 



THE HUNTING CAMP 329 

Indians originated in this village; and though this 
plan had fallen to the ground, the embers of the 
martial ardor continued to glow brightly. About a 
dozen young men had prepared themselves to go out 
against the enemy. The fourth day of our stay in this 
camp was fixed upon for their departure. At the 
head of this party was a well-built active little Indian, 
called The White Shield, whom I had always noticed 
for the great neatness of his dress and appearance. 
His lodge, too, though not a large one, was the best in 
the village, his squaw was one of the prettiest girls, and 
altogether his dwelling presented a complete model of 
an Ogallallah domestic establishment. I was often 
a visitor there, for The White Shield, being rather 
partial to white men, used to invite me to continual 
feasts at all hours of the day. Once when the sub- 
stantial part of the entertainment was concluded, 
and he and I were seated cross-legged on a buffalo 
robe smoking together very amicably, he took down 
his warlike equipments, which were hanging around 
the lodge, and displayed them with great pride and 
self-importance. Among the rest was a most superb 
headdress of feathers. Taking this from its case, he 
put it on and stood before me, as if conscious of the 
gallant air which it gave to his dark face and his 
vigorous, graceful figure. He told me that upon it 
were the feathers of three war-eagles, equal in value 
to the same number of good horses. He took up 
also a shield gayly painted and hung with fluttering 
feathers. The effect of these barbaric ornaments was 



330 THE OREGON TRAIL 

admirable, for they were arranged with no little skill 
and taste. His quiver was made of the spotted skin 
of a small panther, such as are common among the 
Black Hills, from which the tail and distended claws 
were still allowed to hang. The White Shield con- 
cluded his entertainment in a manner characteristic 
of an Indian. He begged of me a little powder and 
ball, for he had a gun as well as bow and arrows; but 
this I was obliged to refuse, because I had scarcely 
enough for my own use. Making him, however, a 
parting present of a paper of vermilion, I left him 
apparently quite contented. 

Unhappily on the next morning The White Shield 
took cold and was attacked with a violent inflamma- 
tion of the throat. Immediately he seemed to lose 
all spirit, and though before no warrior in the village 
had borne himself more proudly, he now moped 
about from lodge to lodge with a forlorn and dejected 
air. At length he came and sat down, close wrapped 
in his robe, before the lodge of Reynal, but when he 
found that neither he nor I knew how to relieve him, 
he arose and stalked over to one of the medicine-men 
of the village. This old imposter thumped him for 
some time with both fists, howled and yelped over 
him, and beat a drum close to his ear to expel the evil 
spirit that had taken possession of him. This vigor- 
ous treatment failing of the desired effect. The White 
Shield withdrew to his own lodge, where he lay 
disconsolate for some hours. Making his appearance 
once more in the afternoon, he again took his seat on 



THE HUNTING CAMP 331 

the ground before Reynal's lodge, holding his throat 
with his hand. For some time he sat perfectly silent 
with his eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. . At 
last he began to speak in a low tone: 

''I am a brave man/' he said; ^^all the young men 
think me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready 
to go with me to the war. I will go and show them 
the enemy. Last summer the Snakes killed my 
brother. I cannot live unless I revenge his death. 
To-morrow we will set out and I will take their 
scalps." 

The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, 
seemed to have lost all the accustomed fire and 
spirit of his look, and hung his head as if in a fit of 
despondency. 

As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I 
saw him arrayed in his splendid war dress, his cheeks 
painted with vermilion, leading his favorite war horse 
to the front of his lodge. He mounted and rode 
round the village, singing his war-song in a loud 
hoarse voice amid the shrill acclamations of the women. 
Then dismounting, he remained for some minutes 
prostrate upon the ground, as if in an act of supplica- 
tion. On the following morning I looked in vain for 
the departure of the warriors. All was quiet in the 
village until late in the forenoon, when The White 
Shield, issuing from his lodge, came and seated him- 
self in his old place before us. Reynal asked him why 
he had not gone out to find the enemy. 

"I cannot go," answered The White Shield in a 



332 THE OREGON TRAIL 

dejected voice. ^'I have given my war-arrows to 
the Meneaska." 

"You have only given him two of your arrows/' 
said Reynal. ''If you ask him, he will give them 
back again." 

For some time The White Shield said nothing. At 
last he spoke in a gloomy tone: 

^' One of my young men has had bad dreams. The 
spirits of the dead came and threw stones at him in 
his sleep." 

If such a dream had actually taken place it would 
instantly have broken up this or any other war party, 
but both Reynal and I were convinced at the time 
that it was a mere fabrication to excuse his remaining 
at home. 

The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. 
Very probably, he would have received a mortal 
wound without the show of pain, and endured without 
flinching the worst tortures that an enemy could 
inflict upon him. The whole power of an Indian's 
nature would be summoned to encounter such a trial; 
every influence of his education from childhood would 
have prepared him for it; the cause of his suffering 
would have been visibly and palpably before him, 
and his spirit would rise to set his enemy at defiance, 
and gain the highest glory of a warrior by meeting 
death with fortitude. But when he feels himself 
attacked by a mysterious evil, before whose insidious 
assaults his manhood is wasted, and his strength 
drained away, when he can see no enemy to resist and 



J 



THE HUNTING CAiMP 333 

defy, the boldest warrior falls prostrate at once. He 
believes that a bad spirit has taken possession of 
him, or that he is the victim of some charm. When 
suffering from a protracted disorder, an Indian will 
often abandon himself to his supposed destiny, pine 
away and die, the victim of his own imagination. 
The same effect will often follow from a series of 
calamities, or a long run of ill success, and the sufferer 
has been known to ride into the midst of an enemy's 
camp, or attack a grizzly bear single-handed, to get 
rid of a life which he supposed to lie under the doom 
of misfortune. 

Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling 
upon the Great Spirit, The White Shield's war party 
was pitifully broken up. A day or two after this, 
however, as if by way of compensation, a quarrel arose 
in the village itself, and a general battle among its 
fierce inhabitants had well-nigh been the result. 



CHAPTER XV 

The Trappers 

Ours the wild life, in freedom still to range, 
From toil to rest, and joy in every change; 
Th' exulting sense, the pulse's maddening play 
That thrills the wanderer of the trackless way, 
That for itself can dare the approaching fight: 
Come when it will, we snatch the life of life. 
When lost, what recks it by disease or strife? 

The Corsair. 

In speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten 
two bold adventurers of another race, the trappers 
Rouleau and Saraphin. These men were bent on a 
most hazardous enterprise. A day's journey to the 
westward was the country over wdiich the Arapahoes 
are accustomed to range, and for which the two 
trappers were on the point of setting out. These 
Arapahoes, of whom Shaw and I afterward fell in 
with a large village, are ferocious barbarians, of a 
most brutal and wolfish aspect, and of late they had 
declared themselves enemies to the whites, and 
threatened death to the first who should venture 
within their territory. The occasion of the declaration 
was as follows: 

In the previous spring, 1845, Colonel Kearney left 
Fort Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, 

334 



THE TRAPPERS 335 

and marching with extraordinary celerity reached 
Fort Laramie, whence he passed along the foot of the 
mountains to Bent's Fort^ and then, turning east- 
ward again, returned to the point from whence he set 
out. While at Fort Laramie, he sent a part of his 
command as far westward as Sweetwater, while he 
himself remained at the fort, and dispatched messages 
to the surrounding Indians to meet him there in 
council. Then for the first time the tribes in that 
vicinity saw the white warriors, and, as might have 
been expected, they were lost in astonishment at 
their regular order, their gay attire, the completeness 
of their martial equipment, and the great size and 
power of their horses. Among the rest, the Arapahoes 
came in considerable numbers to the fort. They had 
lately committed numerous acts of outrage, and 
Colonel Kearney threatened that if they killed any 
more white men he would turn loose his dragoons upon 
them, and annihilate their whole nation. In the 
evening, to add effect to his speech, he ordered a 
howitzer- to be fired and a rocket to be thrown up. 
Many of the Arapahoes fell prostrate on the ground, 
while others ran away screaming with amazement 
and terror. On the following day they withdrew to 
their mountains, confounded with awe at the appear- 
ance of the dragoons, at their big gun which went off 
twice at one shot, and the fiery messenger which they 
had sent up to the Great Spirit. For many months 
they remained quiet, and did no further mischief. 
At length, just before we came into the country, one 



336 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of them, by an act of the basest treachery, killed two 
white men, Boot and May, who were trapping 
among the mountains. For this act it was impossible 
to discover a motive. It seemed to spring from one 
of those inexplicable impulses which often actuate 
Indians and appear no better than the mere outbreaks 
of native ferocity. No sooner was the murder com- 
mitted than the whole tribe were in extreme conster- 
nation. They expected every day that the avenging 
dragoons would arrive, little thinking that a desert 
of nine hundred miles in extent lay between the latter 
and their mountain fastnesses. A large deputation of 
them came to Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable pres- 
ent of horses, in compensation for the lives of the 
murdered men. These Bordeaux refused to accept. 
They then asked him if he would be satisfied with 
their delivering up the murderer himself; but he 
declined this offer also. The Arapahoes went back 
more terrified than ever. Weeks passed away, and 
still no dragoons appeared. A result followed which 
all those best acquainted with Indians had predicted. 
They conceived that fear had prevented Bordeaux 
from accepting their gifts, and that they had nothing 
to apprehend from the vengeance of the whites. 
From extreme terror they arose to the height of inso- 
lence and presumption. They called the white men 
cowards and old women; and a friendly Dahcotah 
came to Fort Laramie, and reported that they were 
determined to kill the first of the white dogs whom 
they could lay hands on. 



J ill 



THE TRAPPERS 337 

Had a military officer, intrusted with suitable 
powers, been stationed at Fort Laramie, and having 
accepted the offer of the Arapahoes to deliver up 
the murderer, had ordered him to be immediately- 
led out and shot, in presence of his tribe, they would 
have been awed into tranquillity, and much danger 
and calamity averted; but now the neighborhood of 
the Medicine- Bow Mountain and the region beyond 
it was a scene of extreme peril. Old Mene-Seela, a 
true friend of the whites, and many other of the 
Indians gathered about the two trappers, and vainly 
endeavored to turn them from their purpose; but 
Rouleau and Saraphin only laughed at the danger. 
On the morning preceding that on which they were 
to leave the camp, we could all discern faint white 
columns of smoke rising against the dark base of the 
Medicine-Bow. Scouts were out immediately, and 
reported that these proceeded from an Arapahoe 
camp, abandoned only a few hours before. Still the 
two trappers continued their preparations for de- 
parture. 

Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen 
and sinister countenance. His rifle had very prob- 
ably drawn other blood than that of buffalo or even 
Indians. Rouleau was an excellent specimen of a 
Rocky Mountain trapper. He had a broad ruddy face, 
marked with as few traces of thought or of care as a 
child's. His figure was remarkably square and strong, 
but the first joints of both his feet were frozen off, 
and his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon 



338 THE OREGON TRAIL 

him, by which he had been severely injured in the 
chest. But nothing could check his inveterate pro- 
pensity for laughter and gayety. He went all day 
rolling about the camp on his stumps of feet, talking 
and singing and frolicking with the Indian women, as 
they were engaged at their work. In fact Rouleau 
had an unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had 
one whom he must needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, 
and all the finery of an Indian wardrobe; and though 
he was of course obliged to leave her behind him 
during his expeditions, yet this hazardous necessity 
did not at all trouble him, for his disposition was the 
very reverse of jealous. If at any time he had not 
lavished the whole of the precarious profits of his 
vocation upon his dark favorite, he always devoted 
the rest to feasting his comrades. If liquor was not 
to be had — and this was usually the case — ^strong 
coffee was substituted in its place. As the men of 
that region are by no means remarkable for providence 
or self-restraint, whatever was set before them on 
these occasions, however extravagant in price, or 
enormous in quantity, was sure to be disposed of at 
one sitting. Like other trappers. Rouleau's life was 
one of contrast and variety. It was only at certain 
seasons, and for a limited time, that he was absent on 
his expeditions. For the rest of the year he would be 
lounging about the fort, or encamped with his friends 
in its vicinity, lazily hunting or enjoying all the luxury 
of inaction; but when once in pursuit of the beaver, 
he was involved in extreme privation and desperate 



THE TRAPPERS 339 

perils. When in the midst of his game and his enemies, 
hand and foot, eye and ear, are incessantly active. 
Frequently he must content himself with devouring 
his evening meal uncooked, lest the light of his fire 
should attract the ej^es of some wandering Indian; 
and sometimes having made his rude repast, he must 
leave his fire still blazing, and withdraw to a distance 
under cover of the darkness, that his disappointed 
enemy, drawn thither by the light, may find his 
victim gone, and be unable to trace his footsteps in 
the gloom. This is the life led by scores of men in 
the Rocky Mountains and their vicinity. I once met 
a trapper whose breast was marked with the scars 
of six bullets and arrows, one of his arms broken by 
a shot and one of his knees shattered; yet still, with 
the undaunted mettle of New England, from which 
part of the country he had come, he continued to 
follow his perilous occupation. To some of the 
children of cities it may seem strange that men with 
no object in view should continue to follow a life of 
such hardship and desperate adventure; yet there is 
a mysterious, restless charm in the basilisk^ eye of 
danger, and few men perhaps remain long in that 
wild region without learning to love peril for its own 
sake, and to laugh carelessly in the face of death. 

On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trap- 
pers were ready for departure. When in the Black 
Hills they had caught seven beaver, and they now left 
their skins in charge of Reynal, to be kept until their 
return. Their strong, gaunt horses- were equipped 



340 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with rusty Spanish bits and rude Mexican saddles, 
to which wooden stirrups were attached, while a 
buffalo robe was rolled up behind them, and a bundle 
of beaver traps slung at the pommel. These, together 
with their rifles, their knives, their powder-horns and 
bullet-pouches, flint and steel and a tin cup, composed 
their whole traveling equipment. They shook hands 
with us and rode away; Saraphin with his grim counte- 
nance, like a surly bulldog's, was in advance; but 
Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, kicked his 
horse's sides, flourished his whip in the air, and trotted 
briskly over the prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song 
at the top of his lungs. Reynal looked after them 
with his face of brutal selfishness. 

^^ Well," he said, " if they are killed, I shall have the 
beaver. They'll fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, 
anyhow." 

This was the last I saw of them. 

We had been for five days in the hunting-camp, 
and the meat, which all this time had hung drying in 
the sun, was now fit for transportation. Buffalo 
hides also had been procured in sufficient quantities 
for making the next season's lodges; but it remained 
to provide the long slender poles on which they were 
to be supported. These were only to be had among 
the tall pine woods of the Black Hills, and in that 
direction therefore our next move was to be made. 
It is worthy of notice that amid the general abundance 
which during this time had prevailed in the camp 
there were no instances of individual privation; for 



THE TRAPPERS 341 

although the hide and the tongue of the buffalo 
belong by exclusive right to the hunter who has killed 
it, yet anyone else is equally entitled to help himself 
from the rest of the carcass. Thus, the weak, the 
aged, and even the indolent come in for a share of the 
spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would 
otherwise perish from starvation, is sustained in pro- 
fuse abundance. 

On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, 
the camp broke up, with the usual tumult and con- 
fusion, and we were all moving once more, on horse- 
back and on foot, over the plains. We advanced, 
however, but a few miles. The old men, who during 
the whole march had been stoutly striding along on 
foot in front of the people, now seated themselves in 
a circle on the ground, while all the families, erecting 
their lodges in the prescribed order around them, 
formed the usual great circle of the camp; meanwhile 
these village patriarchs sat smoking and talking on 
the ground. I threw my bridle to Raymond, and sat 
down as usual along with them. There was none of 
that reserve and apparent dignity which an Indian 
always assumes when in council, or in the presence 
of white men whom he distrusts. The party, on the 
contrary, was an extremely merry one, and as in a 
social circle of a quite different character, "if there 
was not much wit, there was at least a great deal of 
laughter."^ 

When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and 
withdrew to the lodge of my host. Here I was 



342 THE OREGON TRAIL 

stooping, in the act of taking off my powder-horn and 
bullet-pouch, when suddenly, and close at hand, 
pealing loud and shrilly and in right good earnest, 
came the terrific yell of the war-whoop. Kongra- 
Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest child, and 
ran out of the lodge. I followed, and found the whole 
village in confusion, resounding with cries and yells. 
The circle of old men in the center had vanished. 
The warriors with glittering eyes came darting, their 
weapons in their hands, out of the low opening of the 
lodges, and running with wild yells toward the farther 
end of the village. Advancing a few rods in that 
direction, I saw a crowd in furious agitation, while 
others ran up on every side to add to the confusion. 
Just then I distinguished the voices of Raymond and 
Reynal, shouting to me from a distance, and looking 
back, I saw the latter with his rifle in his hand, 
standing on the farther bank of a little stream that 
ran along the outskirts of the camp. He was calling 
to Raymond and myself to come over and join him, 
and Raymond, with his usual deliberate gait and 
stolid countenance, was already moving in that 
direction and shouting to me to follow. 

This was clearly the wisest course, unless I wished 
to involve myself in the fray; so I turned to go, but 
just then a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and 
an aged familiar countenance was thrust from the 
opening of a neighboring lodge, and out bolted old 
Mene-Seela, full of fight, clutching his bow and arrows 
in one hand and his knife in the other. At that 



THE TRAPPERS 343 

instant he tripped and fell sprawling on his face, 
while his weapons flew scattering away in every 
direction. The women with loud screams were hurry- 
ing with their children in their arms to place them out 
of danger, and I observed some hastening to prevent 
mischief, by carrying away all the weapons they could 
lay hands on. On a rising ground close to the camp 
stood a line of old women singing a medicine song to 
allay the tumult. As I approached the side of the 
brook I heard gun-shots behind me, and turning back, 
I saw that the crowd had separated into two long 
lines of naked warriors. confronting each other at a 
respectful distance, and yelling and jumping about to 
dodge the shot of their adversaries, while they dis- 
charged bullets and arrows against each other. At 
the same time certain sharp, humming sounds in the 
air over my head, like the flight of beetles on a summer 
evening, warned me that the danger was not wholly 
confined to the immediate scene of the fray. So 
wading through the brook, I joined Reynal and Ray- 
mond, and we sat down on the grass, in the posture 
of an armed neutrality, to w^atch the result. 

Happily it may be for ourselves, though quite 
contrary to our expectation, the disturbance was 
quelled almost as soon as it had commenced. When 
I looked again, the combatants were once more 
mingled together in a mass. Though yells sounded 
occasionally from the throng, the firing had entirely 
ceased, and I observed five or six persons moving 
busily about, as if acting the part of peacemakers. 



344 THE OREGON TRAIL 

One of the village heralds or criers proclaimed in a 
loud voice something which my two companions were 
too much engrossed in their own observations to 
translate for me. The crowd began to disperse, 
though many a deep-set black eye still glittered with 
an unnatural luster, as the warriors slowly withdrew 
to their lodges. This fortunate suppression of the 
disturbance was owing to a few of the old men, less 
pugnacious than Mene-Seela, who boldly ran in 
between the combatants and aided by some of the 
''soldiers," or Indian police, succeeded in effecting 
their object. 

It seemed very strange to me that although many 
arrows and bullets were discharged, no one was 
mortally hurt, and I could only account for this by 
the fact that both the marksman and the object of 
his aim were leaping about incessantly during the 
whole time. By far the greater part of the villagers 
had joined in the fray, for although there were not 
more than a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard 
at least eight or ten shots fired. 

In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively 
quiet. A large circle of warriors were again seated 
in the center of the village, but this time I did not 
venture to join them, because I could see that the 
pipe, contrary to the usual order, was passing from 
the left hand to the right around the circle; a sure 
sign that a " medicine-smoke " of reconciliation was 
going forward, and that a white man would be an 
unwelcome intruder. When I again entered the still 



THE TRAPPERS 345 

agitated camp it was nearly dark, and mournful cries, 
howls, and wailings resounded from many female 
voices. Whether these had any connection with the 
late disturbance, or were merely lamentations for 
relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I 
could not distinctly ascertain. 

To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel 
was by no means prudent, and it was not until some 
time after that I discovered what had given rise to it. 
Among the Dahcotahs there are many associations, 
or fraternities, connected with the purposes of their 
superstitions, their warfare, or their social life. There 
was one called the Arrow-Breakers, now in a great 
measure disbanded and dispersed. In the village 
there were, however, four men belonging to it, dis- 
tinguished by the peculiar arrangement of their hair, 
which' rose in a high bristling mass above their fore- 
heads, adding greatly to their apparent height, and 
giving them a most ferocious appearance. The 
principal among them was The Mad Wolf, a warrior 
of remarkable size and strength, great courage, and 
the fierceness of a demon. I had always looked upon 
him as the most dangerous man in the village; and 
though he often invited me to feasts, I never entered 
his lodge unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a 
fancy to a fine horse belonging to another Indian, 
who was called The Tall Bear; and anxious to get the 
animal into his possession, he made the owner a 
present of another horse nearly equal in value. 
According to the customs of the Dahcotah, the 



346 THE OREGON TRAIL . 

acceptance of this gift involved a sort of obligation 
to make an equitable return; and The Tall Bear well 
understood that the other had in view the obtaining 
of his favorite buffalo-horse. He, however^ accepted 
the present without a word of thanks, and having 
picketed the horse before his lodge, he suffered day 
after day to pass without making the expected return. 
The Mad Wolf grew impatient and angry; and at last, 
seeing that his bounty was not likely to produce the 
desired return, he resolved to reclaim it. So this 
evening, as soon as the village was encamped, he went 
to the lodge of The Tall Bear, seized upon the horse 
that he had given him, and led him away. At this 
The Tall Bear broke into one of those fits of sullen 
rage not uncommon among the Indians. He ran up 
to the unfortunate horse, and gave him three mortal 
stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning The Mad 
Wolf drew his bow to its utmost tension, and held the 
arrow quivering close to the breast of his adversary. 
The Tall Bear, as the Indians who were near him said, 
stood with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the 
assailant with the utmost calmness. Some of his 
friends and relatives, seeing his danger, ran hastily 
to his assistance. The remaining three Arrow- 
Breakers, on the other hand, came to the aid of their 
associate. Many of their friends joined them, the 
war-cry was raised on a sudden, and the tumult 
became general. 

The "soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting 
it down, arc by far the most important executive 



H 



THE TRAPPERS 347 

functionaries in an Indian village. The office is one 
of considerable honor, being confided only to men of 
courage and repute; and deriving their authority 
from the old men and chief warriors of the village, 
who elect them in councils occasionally convened for 
the purpose, they can exercise a degree of authority 
which no one else in the village would dare to assume. 
While very few Ogallallah chiefs could venture 
without instant jeopardy of their lives to strike or 
lay hands upon the meanest of their people, the 
"soldiers," in the discharge of their appropriate 
functions, have full license to make use of these and 
similar acts of coercion. 



CHAPTER XVI 

The Black Hills 

To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell 
Or slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell 
And human foot hath ne'er or rarely been, 
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 
With the wild flock that never needs a fold, 
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean, 
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold 

Commune with nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled. 

Childe Harold. 

We traveled eastward for two days, and then the 
gloomy ridges of the Black Hills rose up before us. 
The village passed along for some miles beneath their 
declivities, trailing out to a great length over the arid 
prairie, or winding at times among small detached 
hills or distorted shapes. Turning sharply to the 
left, we entered a wide defile of the mountains, down 
the bottom of which a brook came winding, lined with 
tall grass and dense copses, amid which were hidden 
many beaver dams and lodges. We passed along 
between two lines of high precipices and rocks, piled 
in utter disorder one upon another, and with scarcely 
a tree, a bush, or a clump of grass to veil their naked- 

348 



THE BLACK HILLS 349 

ness. The restless Indian boys were wandering along 
their edges and clambering up and down their rugged 
sides, and sometimes a group of them would stand on 
the verge of a cliff and look down on the array as it 
passed in review beneath them. As we advanced, 
the passage grew more narrow; then it suddenly 
expanded into a round grassy meadow, completely 
encompassed by mountains; and here the families 
stopped as they came up in turn, and the camp rose 
like magic. 

The lodges were hardly erected when, with their 
usual precipitation, the Indians set about accomplish- 
ing the object that had brought them there; that is, the 
obtaining poles for supporting their new lodges. Half 
the population, men, women, and boys, mounted their 
horses and set out for the interior of the mountains. 
As they rode at full gallop over the shingly rocks and 
into the dark opening of the defile beyond, I thought 
I had never read or dreamed of a more strange or 
picturesque cavalcade. We passed between precipices, 
more than a thousand feet high, sharp and splintering 
at the tops, their sides beetling^ over the defile or 
descending in abrupt declivities, bristling with black 
fir-trees. On our left they rose close to us like a wall, 
but on the right a winding brook with a narrow strip 
of marshy soil intervened between us and them. The 
stream was clogged with old beaver dams, and spread 
frequently into wide pools. There were thick bushes 
and many dead and blasted trees along its course, 
though frequently nothing remained but stumps cut 



350 THE OREGON TRAIL 

close to the ground by the beaver, and marked with 
the sharp chisel-Kke teeth of those indefatigable 
laborers. Sometimes we were diving among trees, 
and then emerging upon open spots, over which, 
Indian-like, all galloped at full speed. As Pauhne 
bounded over the rocks I felt her saddle-girth slipping, 
and alighted to draw it tighter; when the whole array 
swept past me in a moment, the women with their 
gaudy ornaments tinkling as they rode, the men 
whooping, and laughing, and lashing forward their 
horses. Two black-tailed deer bounded away among 
the rocks; Raymond shot at them from horseback; 
the sharp report of his rifle was answered by another 
equally sharp report from the opposing cliffs, and then 
the echoes, leaping in rapid succession from side to 
side, died away rattling far amid the mountains. 

After having ridden in this manner for six or eight 
miles, the appearance of the scene began to change, and 
all the declivities around us were covered with forests 
of tall, slender pine-trees. The Indians began to fall 
off to the right and left, and dispersed with their 
hatchets and knives among these woods, to cut the 
poles which they had come to seek. Soon I was left 
almost alone; but in the deep stillness of those lonely 
mountains, the stroke of hatchets and the sound of 
voices might be heard from far and near. 

Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits 
as well as the worst features of their character, had 
killed buffalo enough to make a lodge for himself 
and his squaw, and now he was eager to get the poles 



THE BLACK HILLS 351 

necessary to complete it. He asked me to let Ray- 
mond go with him and assist in the work. I assented, ^ 
and the two men immediately entered the thickest 
part of the wood. Having left my horse in Raymond's 
keeping, I began to climb the mountain. I was 
weak and weary and made slow progress, often 
pausing to rest, but after an hour had elapsed, I 
gained a height, whence the little valley out of wdiich 
I had climbed seemed like a deep, dark gulf, though 
the inaccessible peak of the mountain was still tower- 
ing to a much greater distance above me. Objects 
familiar from childhood surrounded me; crags and 
rocks, a black and sullen brook that gurgled with a 
hollow voice deep among the crevices, a wood of 
mossy distorted trees and prostrate trunks flung 
down by age and storms, scattered among the rocks, 
or damming the foaming waters of the brook. The 
objects were the same, yet they were thrown into a 
wilder and more startling scene, for the black crags 
and the savage trees assumed a grim and threatening 
aspect, and close across the valley the opposing 
mountain confronted me, rising from the gulf for 
thousands of feet, with its bare pinnacles and its 
ragged covering of pines. Yet the scene was not 
without its milder features. As I ascended, I found 
frequent little grassy terraces, and there was one of 
these close at hand, across which the brook was 
stealing, beneath the shade of scattered trees that 
seemed artificially planted. Here I made a welcome 
discovery, no other than a bed of strawberries, with 



352 THE OREGON TRAIL 

their white flowers and their red fruit, close nestled 
among the grass by the side of the brook, and I sat 
down by them, hailing them as old acquaintances; 
for among those lonely and perilous mountains they 
awakened delicious associations of the gardens and 
peaceful homes of far-distant New England. 

Yet wild as they were, these mountains were 
thickly peopled. As I climbed farther, I found the 
broad dusty paths made by the elk, as they filed 
across the mountainside. The grass on all the ter- 
races was trampled down by deer; there were numer- 
ous tracks of wolves, and in some of the rougher and 
more precipitous parts of the ascent, I found foot- 
prints different from any that I had ever seen, and 
which I took to be those of the Rocky Mountain 
sheep. I sat down upon a rock; there was a perfect 
stillness. No wind was stirring, and not even an 
insect could be heard. I recollected the danger of 
becoming lost in such a place, and therefore fixed 
my eye upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the 
opposite mountain. It rose sheer upright from the 
woods below, and by an extraordinary freak of 
nature sustained aloft on its very summit a large 
loose rock. Such a landmark could never be mistaken, 
and feeling once more secure, I began again to move 
forward. A white wolf jumped up from among some 
bushes, and leaped clumsily away; but he stopped 
for a moment, and turned back his keen eye and his 
grim bristling muzzle. I longed to take his scalp 
and carry it back with me to Boston, as an appro- 



THE BLACK HILLS 353 

priate trophy of the Black Hills, but before I could 
fire, the cowardly ruffian was gone among the rocks. 
Soon I heard a rustling sound, with a cracking of 
twigs at a little distance, and saw moving above the 
tall bushes the branching antlers of an elk. I was in 
the midst of a hunter's paradise. 

Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July; 
but they wear a different garb when winter sets in, 
when the broad boughs of the fir tree are bent to the 
ground by the load of snow, and the dark mountains 
are whitened with it. At that season the mountain- 
trappers, returned from their autumn expeditions, 
often build their rude cabins in the midst of these 
solitudes, and live in abundance and luxury on the 
game that harbors there. I have heard them relate, 
how with their tawny mistresses, and perhaps a few 
young Indian companions, they have spent months 
in total seclusion. They would dig pitfalls, and set 
traps for the white wolves, the sables, and the mar- 
tens, and though through the whole night the awful 
chorus of the wolves would resound from the frozen 
mountains around them, yet within their massive 
walls of logs they would lie in careless ease and com- 
fort before the blazing fire, and in the morning shoot 
the elk and the deer from their very door. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A Mountain Hunt 

Come shall we go and kill us venison? 
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, 
Being native burghers of this desert city, 
Should in their own confines, with forked heads 
Have their round haunches gored. 

As You Like It. 

The camp was full of the newly cut lodge-poles; 
some, already prepared, were stacked together, white 
and glistening, to dry and harden in the sun; others 
were lying on the ground, and the squaws, the boys, 
and even some of the warriors were busily at work 
peeling off the bark and paring them with their 
knives to the proper dimensions. Most of the hides 
obtained at the last camp were dressed and scraped 
thin enough for use, and many of the squaws were 
engaged in fitting them together and sewing them 
with sinews, to form the coverings for the lodges. 
Men were wandering among the bushes that lined the 
brook along the margin of the camp, cutting sticks 
of red willow, or shongsasha, the bark of which, mixed 
with tobacco, they use for smoking. Reynal 's squaw 
was hard at work with her awl and buffalo sinews 
upon her lodge, while her proprietor, having just 

354 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 355 

finished an enormous breakfast of meat, was smoking 
a social pipe along with Raymond and myself. He 
proposed at length that we should go out on a hunt. 
^'Go to The Big Crow's lodge," said he, ''and get 
your rifle. I'll bet the gray Wyandot pony against 
your mare that we start an elk or a black-tailed deer, 
or likely as not, a bighorn, before we are two miles 
out of camp. I'll take my squaw's old yellow horse; 
you can 't whip her more than four miles an hour, but 
she is as good for the mountains as a mule." 

I mounted the black mule Raymond usually rode. 
She was a very fine and powerful animal, gentle and 
manageable enough by nature; but of late her temper 
had been soured by misfortune. About a week be- 
fore I had chanced to offend some one of the Indians, 
who out of revenge went secretly into the meadow 
and gave her a severe stab in the haunch with his 
knife. The w^ound, though partially healed, still 
galled her extremely, and made her even more per- 
verse and obstinate than the rest of her species. 

The morning was a glorious one, and I was better in 
health than I had been at any time for the last two 
months. Though a strong frame and well compacted 
sinews had borne me through hitherto, it w^as long 
since I had been in a condition to feel the exhilaration 
of the fresh mountain wind and the gay sunshine 
that brightened the crags and trees. We left the 
little valley and ascended a rocky hollow in the 
mountain. Very soon we were out of sight of the 
camp,, and of every living thing, man, beast, bird, or 



356 THE OREGON TRAIL 

insect. I had never before, except on foot, passed 
over such execrable ground, and I desire never to 
repeat the experiment. The black mule grew indig- 
nant, and even the redoubtable yellow horse stumbled 
every moment, and kept groaning to himself as he 
cut his feet and legs among the sharp rocks. 

It was a scene of awful silence and desolation. 
Little was visible except beetling crags and the bare 
shingly sides of the mountains, relieved by scarcely 
a trace of vegetation. At length, however, we came 
upon a forest tract, and had no sooner done so than 
we heartily wished ourselves back among the rocks 
again; for we were on a steep descent, among trees so 
thick that we could see scarcely a rod in any direction. 

If the reader is anxious to place himself in a situa- 
tion where the hazardous and the ludicrous are com- 
bined in about equal proportions, let him get upon 
a vicious mule, with a snaffle bit, and try to drive 
her through the woods down a slope of forty-five 
degrees. Let him have on a long rifle, a buckskin 
frock with long fringes, and a head of long hair. 
These latter appendages will be caught every moment 
and twitched away in small portions by the twigs, 
which will also whip him smartly across the face, 
while the large branches above thump him on the 
head. His mule, if she be a true one, will alternately 
stop short and dive violently forward, and his positions 
upon her back will be somewhat diversified and 
extraordinary. At one time he will clasp her affec- 
tionately, to avoid the blow of a bough overhead; at 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 357 

another, he will throw himself back and fling his knee 
forward against the side of her neck, to keep it from 
being crushed between the rough bark of a tree and 
the equally unyielding ribs of the animal herself. 
Reynal was cursing incessantly during the whole way 
down. Neither of us had the remotest idea where 
we were going; and though I have seen rough riding, 
I shall always retain an evil recollection of that five 
minutes' scramble. 

At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging 
into the channel of a brook that circled along the foot 
of the descent; and here, turning joyfully to the left, 
we rode in luxury and ease over the white pebbles and 
the rippling water, shaded from the glaring sun by 
an overarching green transparency. These halcyon 
moments were of short duration. The friendly 
brook, turning sharply to one side, went brawling 
and foaming down the rocky hill into an abyss, 
which, as far as we could discern, had no bottom; so 
once more we betook ourselves to the detested woods. 
When next we came forth from their dancing shadow 
and sunlight, we found ourselves standing in the 
broad glare of day, on a high jutting point of the 
mountain. Before us stretched a long, wide, desert 
valley, winding away far amid the silent mountains. 
My heart thrilled as I recollected the probability that 
no civilized eye but mine had ever looked upon that 
virgin waste. Reynal, too, was gazing intently; he 
began to speak at last, prefacing his observations 
with an oath and liberally interlarding them with 



358 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the same spicy ingredient, which I take pains to 
extract, presuming that it might prove repugnant to 
the reader's good taste. 

"Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I 
have been hunting for gold all through the Black 
Hills. There's plenty of it here; you may be certain 
of that. I have dreamed about it fifty times, and I 
never dreamed yet but what it came out true. Look 
over yonder at those black rocks piled up against that 
other big rock. Don't it look as if there might be 
something there? It won't do for a white man to be 
rummaging too much about these mountains; the 
Indians say they are full of bad spirits; and I believe 
myself that it's no good luck to be hunting about here 
after gold. Well, for all that, I would like to have 
one of these fellows up here, from down below, to go 
about with his witch-hazel rod,^ and I'll guarantee 
that it would not be long before he would light on a 
gold mine. Never mind, we'll let the gold alone for 
to-day. Look at those trees down below us in the 
hollow; we'll go down there, and I reckon we'll get a 
black-tailed deer." 

But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We 
passed mountain after mountain, and valley after 
valley; we explored deep ravines; yet still to my 
companion's vexation and evident surprise, no game 
could be found. So, in the absence of better, we 
resolved to go out on the plains and look for an ante- 
lope. With this view we began to pass down a 
narrow valley, the bottom of which was covered with 



I 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 359 

the stiff wild-sage bushes and marked with deep 
paths, made by the buffalo, who, for some inexplicable 
reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long 
grave processions, deep among the gorges of these 
sterile mountains. 

Reynal's eye was ranging incessantly among the 
rocks and along the edges of the black precipices, in 
hopes of discovering the mountain sheep peering 
down upon us in fancied security from that giddy 
elevation. Nothing was visible for some time. At 
length we both detected something in motion near 
the foot of one of the mountains, and in a moment 
afterward a black-tailed deer, with his spreading 
antlers, stood gazing at us from the top of a rock, and 
then, slowly turning away, disappeared behind it. In 
an instant Reynal was out of his saddle, and running 
toward the spot. I, being too weak to follow, sat 
holding his horse and waiting the result. I lost sight 
of him, then heard the report of his rifle deadened 
among the rocks, and finally saw him reappear, 
with a surly look that plainly betrayed his ill success. 
Again we moved forward down the long valley, when 
soon after we came full upon what seemed a wide 
and very shallow ditch, incrusted at the bottom 
with white clay, dried and cracked in the sun. Under 
this fair outside, Reynal's eye detected the signs of 
lurking mischief. He called me to stop, and then, 
alighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the 
ditch. To my utter amazement it fell with a dull 
splash, breaking at once through the thin crust, 



360 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and spattering round the hole a yellowish creamy- 
fluid, into which it sank and disappeared. A stick, 
five or six feet long, lay on the ground, and with this 
we sounded the insidious abyss close to its edge. 
It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places 
like this are numerous among the Rocky Mountains. 
The buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often 
plunges into them unawares. Down he sinks; one 
snort of terror, one convulsive struggle, and the slime 
calmly flows above his shaggy head, the languid 
undulations of its sleek and placid surface alone 
betraying how the powerful monster writhes in his 
death-throes below. 

We found after some trouble a point where we could 
pass the abyss, and now the valley began to open 
upon the plains which spread to the horizon before 
us. On one of their distant swells we discerned three 
or four black specks, which Reynal pronounced to be 
buffalo. 

"Come," said he, "we must get one of them. 
My squaw wants more sinews to finish her lodge with, 
and I want some glue myself." 

He immediately put the yellow horse to such a 
gallop as he was capable of executing, while I set 
spurs to the mule, who soon far outran her plebeian 
rival. When we had galloped a mile or more, a 
large rabbit, by ill luck, sprang up just under the 
feet of the mule, who bounded violently aside in full 
career. Weakened as I was, I was flung forcibly to 
the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 361 

went off with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful report 
rang for some moments in my ear. Being slightly 
stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, 
supposing me to be shot, rode up and began to curse 
the mule. Soon recovering myself, I rose, picked up 
the rifle and anxiously examined it. It was badly 
injured. The stock was cracked, and the main 
screw broken, so that the lock had to be tied in its 
place with a string; yet happily it was not rendered 
totally unserviceable. I wiped it out, reloaded it, 
and handing it to Reynal, who meanwhile had caught 
the mule and led her up to me, I mounted again. 
No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to 
rear and plunge with extreme violence; but being 
now well prepared for her, and free from incum- 
brance, I soon reduced her to submission. Then 
taking the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped for- 
ward as before. 

We were now free of the mountains and riding far 
out on the broad prairie. The buffalo were still 
some two miles in advance of us. When we came 
near them, we stopped where a gentle swell of the 
plain concealed us from their view, and while I held 
his horse Reynal ran forward with his rifle, till I lost 
sight of him beyond the rising ground. A few min- 
utes elapsed; I heard the report of his piece, and saw 
the buffalo running away at full speed on the right, 
and immediately after, the hunter himself, unsuccess- 
ful as before, came up and mounted his horse in 
excessive ill-humor. He cursed the Black Hills 



362 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and the buffalo, swore that he was a good hunter, 
which indeed was true, and that he had never been 
out before among those mountains without killing 
two or three deer at least. 

We now turned toward the distant encampment. 
As we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers 
were flying lightly in all directions over the plain, 
but not one of them would stand and be shot at! 
When we reached the foot of the mountain ridge 
that lay between us and the village, we were too 
impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route; 
so turning short to the left, we drove our wearied 
animals directly upward among the rocks. Still 
more antelope were leaping about among these 
flinty hillsides. Each of us shot at one, though 
from a great distance, and each missed his mark. 
At length we reached the summit of the last ridge. 
Looking down, we saw the bustling camp in the 
valley at our feet, and ingloriously descended to it. 
As we rode among the lodges, the Indians looked in 
vain for the fresh meat that should have hung be- 
hind our saddles, and the squaws uttered various 
suppressed ejaculations, to the great indignation 
of Reynal. Our mortification was increased when 
we rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young 
Indian relative, The Hail-Storm, his light graceful 
figure reclining on the ground in an easy attitude, 
while with his friend The Rabbit, who sat by his side, 
he was making an abundant meal from a wooden 
bowl of wama, which the squaw had placed between 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 363 

them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a female elk, 
which he had just killed among the mountains, only 
a mile or two from the camp. I have no doubt the 
boy's heart was elated with triumph, but if it were so, 
he betrayed no sign of it. He even seemed totally 
unconscious of our approach, and his handsome face 
had all the tranquillity of Indian self-control; a self- 
control which prevents the exhibition of emotion, 
without restraining the emotion itself. It was about 
two months since I had known The Hail-Storm, and 
within that time his character had remarkably 
developed. When I first saw him, he was just emer- 
ging from the habits and feelings of the boy into the 
ambition of the hunter and warrior. He had lately 
killed his first deer, and this had excited his aspira- 
tions after distinction. Since that time he had been 
continually in search of game, and no young hunter 
in the village had been so active or so fortunate as 
he. It will perhaps be remembered how fearlessly 
he attacked the buffalo-bull, as we were moving 
toward our camp at the Medicine-Bow Mountain. 
All this success had produced a marked change in 
his character. As I first remembered him he always 
shunned the society of the young squaws, and was 
extremely bashful and sheepish in their presence; 
but now, in the confidence of his own reputation, he 
began to assume the airs and the arts of a man of 
gallantry. He wore his red blanket dashingly over 
his left shoulder, painted his cheeks every day with 
vermilion, and hung pendants of shells in his ears. 



364 THE OREGON TRAIL 

If I observed aright, he met with very good success 
in his new pursuits; still The Hail-Storm had much 
to accomplish before he attained the full standing 
of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself 
among the women and girls, he still was timid and 
abashed in the presence of the chiefs and old men; 
for he had never yet killed a man, or stricken 
the dead body of an enemy in battle. I have 
no doubt that the handsome smooth-faced boy 
burned with a keen desire to flesh his maiden 
scalping-knife, and I would not have encamped alone 
with him without watching his movements with a 
distrustful eye. 

His elder brother. The Horse, was of a different 
character. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He 
knew very well how to hunt, but preferred to live by 
the hunting of others. He had no appetite for dis- 
tinction, and The Hail-Storm, though a few years 
younger than he, already surpassed him in reputation. 
He had a dark and ugly face, and he passed a great 
part of his time in adorning it with vermilion, and 
contemplating it by means of a little pocket looking- 
glass which I gave him. As for the rest of the day, 
he divided it between eating and sleeping, and sitting 
in the sun on the outside of a lodge. Here he would 
remain for hour after hour, arrayed in all his finery, 
with an old dragoon's sword in his hand, and evidently 
flattering himself that he was the center of attraction 
to the eyes of the surrounding squaws. Yet he sat 
looking straight forward with a face of the utmost 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 365 

gravity, as if wrapped in profound meditation, and 
it was only by the occasional sidelong glances which 
he shot at his supposed admirers that one could 
detect the true course of his thoughts. 

Both he and his brother may represent a class in 
the Indian community: neither should The Hail- 
Storm^s friend. The Rabbit, be passed by without 
notice. These two were inseparable: they ate, slept, 
and hunted together, and shared with one another 
almost all that they possessed. If there be anything 
that deserves to be called romantic in the Indian 
charac-ter, it is to be sought for in friendships such 
as this, which are quite common among many of the 
prairie tribes. And perhaps the absence or at least 
the infrequency of any deep sentiment on the part 
of the men toward the fair partners of their toil may 
in some measure account for these permanent and 
devoted attachments. 

Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon 
dragged away. I lay in ReynaFs lodge, overcome 
by the listless torpor that pervaded the whole en- 
campment. The day's work was finished, or if it 
were not, the inhabitants had resolved not to finish 
it at all, and all were dozing quietly within the shelter 
of the lodges. A profound lethargy, the very spirit 
of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village. 
Now and then I could hear the low laughter of some 
girl from within a neighboring lodge, or the small 
shrill voices of a few restless children, who alone were 
moving in the deserted area. The spirit of the place 



366 THE OREGON TRAIL 

infected me; I could not even think consecutively; 
I was fit only for musing and reverie, when at last, 
like the rest, I fell asleep. 

When evening came and the fires were lighted 
round the lodges, a select family circle convened in 
the neighborhood of Reynal's domicile. It was 
composed entirely of his squaw's relatives, a mean 
and ignoble clan, among whom none but The Hail- 
Storm held forth any promise of future distinction. 
Even his prospects were rendered not a little dubious 
by the character of the family, less however from any 
principle of aristocratic distinction than fro,m the 
want of powerful supporters to assist him in his 
undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels. Ray- 
mond and I sat down along with them. There were 
eight or ten men gathered around the fire, together 
with about as many women, old and young, some of 
whom were tolerably good-looking. As the pipe 
passed round among the men, a lively conversation 
went forward, more merry than delicate, and at length 
two or three of the elder women (for the girls were 
somewhat diffident and bashful) began to assail 
Raymond with various pungent witticisms. Some 
of the men took part, and an old squaw concluded 
by bestowing on him a ludicrous nickname, at which 
a general laugh followed at his expense. Raymond 
grinned and giggled, and made several futile attempts 
at repartee. For my own part, knowing the impolicy 
and even danger of suffering myself to be placed in 
a ludicrous light among the Indians, I maintained 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 367 

a rigid inflexible countenance, and wholly escaped 
their sallies. 

In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that 
the camp was to retain its position for another day. 
I dreaded its languor and monotony, and to escape it, 
I set out, as I often did, to explore the surrounding 
mountains. I was accompanied by a faithful friend, 
my rifle, the only friend indeed on whose prompt 
assistance in time of trouble I could implicitly rely. 
Most of the Indians in the village, it is true, professed 
good-will toward the whites, but the experience of 
others and my own observation had taught me the 
extreme folly of confidence, and the utter impossi- 
bility of foreseeing to what sudden acts the strange 
unbridled impulses of an Indian may urge him. 
When among this people danger is never so near as 
when you are unprepared for it, never so remote as 
when you are armed and on the alert to meet it any 
moment. Nothing offers so strong a temptation 
to their ferocious instincts as the appearance of tim- 
idity, weakness, or insecurity. So I and my rifle 
together set out for a ramble among the mountains. 

Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees 
and bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, which 
were shaggy with forests wherever the rocks per- 
mitted vegetation to spring. A great number of 
Indians were stalking along the edges of the woods, 
and boys were whooping and laughing on the moun- 
tain-sides, practicing eye and hand, and indulging 
their destructive propensities by following birds 



368 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and small animals and killing them with their little 
bows and arrows. There was one glen, stretching up 
between beetling cliffs far into the bosom of the 
mountains. I began to ascend along its bottom, 
pushing my way onward among the rocks, trees, and 
bushes that obstructed it. A slender thread of 
water trickled along its center, which, since issuing 
from the heart of its native rock, could scarcely have 
been warmed or gladdened by a ray of sunshine. 
After advanc'ng for some time, I conceived myself 
to be entirely alone; but coming to a part of the glen 
in a great measure free of trees and undergrowth, 
I saw at some distance the black head and red shoul- 
ders of an Indian among the bushes above. The 
reader need not prepare himself for a startling adven- 
ture, for I have none to relate. The head and 
shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best friend 
in the village. As I had approached noiselessly with 
my moccasined feet, the old man was quite uncon- 
scious of my presence; and turning to a point where 
I could gain an unobstructed view of him, I saw him 
seated alone, immovable as a statue, among the rocks 
and trees. His face was turned upward, and his 
eyes seemed riveted on a pine tree springing from a 
cleft in the precipice above. The crest of the pine 
was swaying to and fro in the wind, and its long limbs 
waved slowly up and down, as if the tree had life. 
Looking for a while at the old man, I was satisfied 
that he was engaged in an act of worship or prayer, 
or communion of some kind with a supernatural 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 369 

being. I longed earnestly to penetrate his thoughts, 
but I could do nothing more than conjecture and 
speculate. I knew that though the intellect of an 
Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all-power- 
ful Spirit, the supreme Ruler of the universe, yet his 
mind will not always ascend into communion with a 
being that seems to him so vast, remote, and incom- 
prehensible; and when danger threatens, when his 
hopes are broken, when the black wing of sorrow 
overshadows him, he is prone to turn for relief to 
some inferior agency, less removed from the ordinary 
scope of his faculties. He has a guardian spirit, on 
whom he relies for succor and guidance. To him all 
nature is instinct with mystic influence. Among 
those mountains not a wild beast was prowling, a 
bird singing, or a leaf fluttering, that might not tend 
to direct his destiny or give warning of what was in 
store for him; and he watches the world of nature 
around him as the astrologer watches the stars. So 
closely is he linked with it that his guardian spirit, 
no unsubstantial creation of the fancy, is usually 
embodied in the form of some living thing — sl bear, 
a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent; and Mene-Seela, as he 
gazed intently on the old pine tree, might believe it 
to inshrine the fancied guide and protector of his life. 
Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, 
it was no part of sense or of delicacy to disturb him. 
Silently retracing my footsteps, I descended the glen 
until I came to a point where I could climb the steep 
precipices that shut it in, and gain tliQ side of the 



370 THE OREGON TRAIL 

mountain. Looking up, I saw a tall peak rising 
among the woods. Something impelled me to climb; 
I had not felt for many a day such strength and 
elasticity of limb. An hour and a half of slow and 
often intermitted labor brought me to the very 
summit; and emerging from the dark shadows of the 
rocks and pines, I stepped forth into the light, and 
walking along the sunny verge of a precipice, seated 
myself on its extreme point, half a mile aloft in air. 
A wilderness of mountains lay around me, their 
ridges bristling with rocky pinnacles, avalanches of 
rock thrown around their bases and their sides thinly 
clothed with a tattered and squalid covering of 
stunted woods. There were black chasms, deep 
clefts and ravines, where the precipices had split 
asunder, and here and there, in the midst of the 
desolation, small green glens and vaheys, deeply 
embosomed among the savage heights. In the 
largest of these I could discern, like small spots 
upon the meadow, the encampment of the wild and 
mysterious people with whom I was associated. 
Looking between the mountain peaks to the west- 
ward, the pale blue prairie was stretching to the 
farthest horizon like a serene and tranquil ocean. 
The surrounding mountains were in themselves suffi- 
ciently striking and impressive, but this contrast 
gave redoubled effect to their stern features. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

Passage of the Mountains 

Dear Nature is the kindest mother still, 
Though ever varying in her features mild; 
From her bare bosom let me take my fill, 
Her never weaned, but not her favored child. 
O, she is fairest in her features wild, 
When nothing polished dares pollute her path; 
On me by day and night she ever smiled, 
Though I have seen her where none other hath, 
And sought her more and more and loved her best in wrath. 

Childe Harold. 

When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's camp, 
I promised that I would meet him at Fort Laramie 
on the first of August. That day, according to my 
reckoning, was now close at hand. It was impossible, 
at best, to fulfil my engagement exactly, and my 
meeting with him must have been postponed until 
many days after the appointed time, had not the 
plans of the Indians very well coincided with my 
own. They, too, intended to pass the mountains 
and move toward the fort. To do so at this point 
was impossible, because there was no opening; and 
in order to find a passage we were obliged to go twelve 
or fourteen miles to the southward. Late in the 
afternoon the camp got in rnotion, defiling back 

371 



372 . THE OREGON TRAIL 

through the mountains along the same narrow 
passage by which they had entered. I rode in com- 
pany with three or four young Indians at the rear, 
and the moving swarm stretched before me, in the 
ruddy light of sunset, or in the deep shadow of the 
mountains far beyond my sight. It was an ill- 
omened spot that they chose to encamp upon. When 
they were there just a year before, a war party of 
ten men, led by The Whirlwind's son, had gone out 
against the enemy, and not one had ever returned. 
This, as perhaps the reader will recollect, was the 
immediate cause of this season's warlike preparations. 
I was not a little astonished when I came to the camp, 
at the confusion of horrible sounds with which it 
was filled; howls, shrieks, and wailings were heard 
from all the women present, many of whom, not 
content with this exhibition of grief for the loss of 
their friends and relatives, were gashing their legs 
deeply with knives. A warrior in the village, who 
had lost a brother in the expedition, chose another 
mode of displaying his sorrow. These people who, 
though often rapacious, are utterly devoid of avarice, 
are accustomed in times of mourning, or on other 
solemn occasions, to give away the whole of their 
possessions, and reduce themselves to nakedness and 
want. The warrior in question led his two best 
horses into the center of the village, and gave them 
away to his friends; upon which songs and acclama- 
tions in praise of his generosity mingled with the 
cries of the women. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 373 

On the next morning we entered once more among 
the mountains. There was nothing in their appear- 
ance either grand or picturesque, though they were 
desolate to the last degree, being mere piles of black 
and broken rocks, without trees or vegetation of any 
kind. As we passed among them along a wide valley, 
I noticed Raymond riding by the side of a young 
squaw, to whom he was addressing various insinuat- 
ing compliments. All the old squaws in the neigh- 
borhood watched his proceedings in great admiration, 
and the girl herself would turn aside her head and 
laugh with pleasure and embarrassment. Just then 
the old mule thought proper to display her vicious 
pranks; she began to rear and plunge most furiously. 
Raymond was an excellent rider, and at first he stuck 
fast in his seat; but the moment after, I saw the 
mule's hind-legs flourishing in the air, and my un- 
lucky follower pitching head foremost over her ears. 
There was a burst of screams and laughter from all the 
women, in which his mistress herself took part, and 
Raymond was instantly assailed by such a shower 
of witticisms, that he w^as glad to ride forward out 
of hearing. 

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him 
shouting to me. He was pointing toward a detached 
rocky hill that stood in the middle of the valley 
before us, and from behind it a long file of elk came 
out at full speed and entered an opening in the side 
of the mountain. They had scarcely disappeared 
when whoops and exclamations came from fifty 



374 THE OREGON TRAIL 

voices around me. The young men leaped from their 
horses, flung down their heavy buffalo robes, and ran 
at full speed toward the foot of the nearest mountain. 
Reynal also broke away at a gallop in the same direc- 
tion, ^^Come on! come on!" he called to us. ''Do 
you see that band of bighorn up yonder? If there's 
one of them, there's a hundred!" 

In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could 
see a large number of small white objects, moving 
rapidly upward among the precipices, while others 
were filing along its rocky profile. Anxious to see 
the sport, I galloped forward, and entering a passage 
in the side of the mountain, ascended among the loose 
rocks as far as my horse could carry me. Here I 
fastened her to an old pine tree that stood alone, 
scorching in the sun on the mountain-side. At that 
moment Raymond called to me from the right that 
another band of sheep was close at hand in that 
direction. I ran up to the top of the opening, which 
gave me a full view into the rocky gorge beyond; 
and here I plainly saw some fifty or sixty sheep, 
almost within rifle-shot, clattering upward among 
the rocks, and endeavoring, after their usual custom, 
to reach the highest summit. The naked Indians 
bounded up lightly in pursuit. In a moment the 
game and hunters disappeared. Nothing could be 
seen or heard but the occasional report of a gun, 
more and more distant, reverberating among the 
mountains. 

I turned to descend, and as I did so I coukl see the 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 375 

valley below alive with Indians passing rapidly 
through it, on horseback and on foot. A little far- 
ther on, all were stopping as they came up; the camp 
was preparing, and the lodges rising rapidly. I 
descended to this spot, and soon after Reynal and 
Raymond returned. They bore between them a 
sheep which they had pelted to death with stones 
from the edge of a ravine, along the bottom of which 
it was attempting to escape. One by one the hunters 
came dropping in; yet such is the activity of the 
Rocky Mountain sheep that, although sixty or seventy 
men were out in pursuit, not more than half a dozen 
animals were killed. Of these only one was a full- 
grown male. He had a pair of horns twisted like a 
ram's, the dimensions of which were almost beyond 
belief. The reader may form some idea of them when 
I assure him that I have seen among the Indians 
ladles with long handles, capable of containing more 
than a quart, cut out from such horns. 

There is something peculiarly interesting in the 
character and habits of the mountain-sheep, whose 
chosen retreats are above the region of vegetation 
and of storms, and who leap among the giddy preci- 
pices of their aerial home as actively as the antelope 
skims over the prairies below. 

Through the whole of the next morning we were 
moving forward, among the hills. On the following 
day the heights gathered around us, and the passage 
of the mountains began in earnest. Before the 
village left its camping ground, I set forward in 



376 THE OREGON TRAIL 

company with The Eagle-Feather, a man of powerful 
frame, but of bad and sinister face. His son, a light- 
limbed boy, rode with us, and another Indian, named 
The Panther, was also of the party. Leaving the 
village far out of sight behind us, we rode together 
up a rocky defile. After a while, however. The 
Eagle-Feather discovered in the distance some 
appearance of game, and set off with his son in pur- 
suit of it, while I went forward with The Panther. 
This was a mere nom de guerre;^ for like many Indians, 
he concealed his real name out of some superstitious 
notion. He was, in sober truth, a very noble-looking 
fellow. As he suffered his ornamented buffalo robe 
to fall in folds about his loins, his stately and graceful 
figure was fully displayed; and while he sat his horse 
in an easy attitude, the long feathers of the prairie 
cock fluttering from the crown of his head, he seemed 
the very model of a wild prairie-rider. He had not 
the same features with those of other Indians. Un- 
less his handsome face greatly belied him, he was 
free from the jealousy, suspicion, and malignant 
cunning of his people. For the most part, a civilized 
white man can discover but very few points of sym- 
pathy between his own nature and that of an Indian. 
With every disposition to do justice to their good 
qualities, he must be conscious that an impassable 
gulf lies between him and his red brethren of the 
prairie. Nay, so alien to himself do they appear that 
having breathed for a few months or a few weeks 
the air of this region, he begins to look upon them 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 377 

as a troublesome and dangerous species of wild beast, 
and, if expedient, he could shoot them with as little 
compunction as they themselves would experience 
after performing the same office upon him. Yet, in 
the countenance of The Panther, I gladly read that 
there were at least some points of sympathy between 
him and me. We were excellent friends, and as we 
rode forward together through rocky passages, deep 
dells, and little barren plains, he occupied himself 
very zealously in teaching me the Dahcotah language. 
After a while, we came to a little grassy recess, where 
some gooseberry bushes were growing at the foot of a 
rock; and these offered such temptation to my com- 
panion, that he gave over his instruction, and stopped 
so long to gather the fruit that before we were in 
motion again the van of the village came in view. An 
old woman appeared, leading down her pack horse 
among the rocks above. Savage after savage fol- 
lowed, and the little dell was soon crowded with 
the throng. 

That day my old ill-luck had again assailed me. A 
renewed attack of my disorder suddenly prostrated all 
my newly gained strength. As I rode on, in any 
posture but an erect one, the squaws mistook my 
weakness and languor for drowsiness, and laughed at 
me for falling asleep on horse-back. I repaid their 
raillery in kind and they never suspected the truth. 

That morning's march was one not easily to be 
forgotten. It led us through a sublime waste, a 
wilderness of mountains and pine forests, over which 



378 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the very spirit of loneliness and silence seemed brood- 
ing. Above and below little could be seen but the 
same dark green foliage. It overspread the valleys, 
and the mountains were clothed with it from the 
black rocks that crowned their summits to the impetu- 
ous streams that circled round their base. Scenery 
like this, it might seem, could have no very cheering 
effect on the mind of a sick man in the midst of a 
horde of savages; but if the reader has ever wandered, 
with a true hunter's spirit, among the forests of Maine 
or the more picturesque solitudes of the Adirondack 
Mountains, he will understand how the somber 
woods and mountains around me might have awak- 
ened any other feelings than those of gloom. In truth 
they recalled gladdening recollections of similar 
scenes in a distant and far different land. 

After we had been advancing for several hours 
through passages always narrow, often obstructed 
and difficult, I saw at a little distance on our right 
a narrow opening between two high wooded precipices. 
All within seemed darkness and mystery. In the 
mood in which I found myself, something strongly 
impelled me to enter. Passing over the intervening 
space I guided my horse through the rocky portal, 
and as I did so instinctively drew the covering from 
my rifle, half expecting that some unknown evil lay 
in ambush within those dreary recesses. The place 
was shut in among tall cliffs, and so deeply shadowed 
by a host of old pine trees that, though the sun shone 
bright on the side of the mountain, nothing but a 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 379 

dim twilight could penetrate within. As far as I 
could see it had no tenants except a few hawks and 
owls, who, dismayed at my intrusion, flapped hoarsely 
away among the shaggy branches. I moved forward, 
determined to explore the mystery to the bottom, 
and soon became involved among the pines. The 
genius of the place exercised a strange influence upon 
my mind. Its faculties were stimulated into extraor- 
dinary activity, and as I passed along many half- 
forgotten incidents, and the images of persons and 
things far distant, rose rapidly before me with sur- 
prising distinctness. In that perilous wilderness, 
eight hundred miles removed beyond the faintest 
vestige of civilization, the scenes of another hemi- 
sphere, the seat of ancient refinement, passed before 
me more like a succession of vivid paintings than 
any mere dreams of the fancy. I saw the church of 
St. Peter's^ illumined on the evening of Easter-Day, 
the whole majestic pile, from the cross to the founda- 
tion stone, penciled in fire and shedding a radiance, 
like the serene light of the moon, on the sea of up- 
turned faces below. I saw the peak of Mount Etna^ 
towering above its inky mantle of clouds and lightly 
curling its wreaths of milk-white smoke against the 
soft sky flushed with the Sicilian sunset. I saw also 
the gloomy vaulted passages and the narrow cells of 
the Passionist convent^ where I once had sojourned 
for a few days with the fanatical monks, its pale, 
stern inmates in their robes of black, and the grated 
window from whence I could look out, a forbidden 



380 THE OREGON TRAIL 

indulgence, upon the melancholy Coliseum^ and the 
crumbling ruins of the Eternal City.^ The mighty 
glaciers of the Spliigen^ too rose before me, gleaming 
in the sun like polished silver, and those terrible 
solitudes, the birthplace of the Rhine, ^ where, burst- 
ing from the bowels of its native mountains, it lashes 
and foams down the rocky abyss into the little valley 
of Andeer.^ These recollections, and many more, 
crowded upon me, until remembering that it was 
hardly wise to remain long in such a place, I mounted 
again and retraced my steps. Issuing from between 
the rocks I saw a few rods before me the men, women, 
and children, dogs and horses, still filing slowly across 
the little glen. A bare round hill rose directly above 
them. I rode to the top, and from this point I could 
look down on the savage procession as it passed just 
beneath my feet, and far on the left I could see its 
thin and broken line, visible only at intervals, stretch- 
ing away for miles among the mountains. On the 
farthest ridge horsemen were still descending like 
mere specks in the distance. The imagination might 
have tasked itself in vain to have conceived a more 
striking spectacle than that wild scene, with wilder 
men who animated it. 

I remained on the hill until all had passed, and 
then, descending, followed after them. A little 
farther on I found a very small meadow, set deeply 
among steep mountains; and here the whole village 
had encamped. The little spot was crowded with 
the confused and disorderly host. Some of the 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 381 

lodges were already completely prepared, or the 
squaws perhaps were busy in drawing the heavy 
coverings of skin over the bare poles. Others were 
as yet mere skeletons, while others still — ^poles, 
covering, and all — ^lay scattered in complete disorder 
on the ground among buffalo robes, bales of meat, 
domestic utensils, harness, and weapons. Squaws 
were screaming to one another, horses rearing and 
plunging, dogs yelping, eager to be disburdened of 
their loads, while the fluttering of feathers and the 
gleam of barbaric ornaments added liveliness to the 
scene. The small children ran about amid the crowd, 
while many of the boys were scrambling among the 
overhanging rocks, and standing, with their little 
bows in their hands, looking down upon the restless 
crowd. In contrast with the general confusion, a 
circle of old men and warriors sat in the midst, smok- 
ing in profound indifference and tranquillity. The 
disorder at length subsided. The horses were driven 
away to feed along the adjacent valley, and the camp 
assumed an air of listless repose. It w^as scarcely 
past noon; a vast white canopy of smoke from a 
burning forest to the eastward overhung the place, 
and partially obscured the sun; yet the heat was 
almost insupportable. The lodges stood crowded 
together without order in the narrow space. Each 
was a perfect hothouse, within which the lazy pro- 
prietor lay sleeping with the perspiration bursting 
from every pore. The camp was silent as death. 
Nothing stirred except now and then an old woman 



382 THE OREGON TRAIL 

passing from lodge to lodge. The girls and young 
men sat together in groups under the pine trees upon 
the surrounding heights. The dogs lay panting on 
the ground, too lazy even to growl at the white man. 
At the entrance of the meadow there was a cold 
spring among the rocks, completely overshadowed 
by tall trees and dense undergrowth. In this cool 
and shady retreat a number of girls were assembled, 
sitting together on rocks and fallen logs, discussing 
the latest gossip of the village, or laughing and throw- 
ing water with their hands at the intruding Meneaska. 
The minutes seemed lengthened into hours. I lay 
for a long time under a tree, studying the Ogallallah 
tongue, with the zealous instructions of my friend 
The Panther. When we were both tired of this, I 
went and lay down by the side of a deep, clear pool 
formed by the water of the spring. Dozens of little 
fishes of about a pin's length were playing in it, 
sporting together, as it seemed, very amicably; but 
on closer observation, I saw that they were engaged 
in a cannibal warfare among themselves. Now and 
then a small one would fall'a victim, and immediately 
disappear down the maw of his voracious conqueror. 
Every moment, however, the tyrant of the pool, a 
monster about three inches long, with staring goggle 
eyes, would slowly issue forth with quivering fins and 
tail from under the shelving bank. The small fry 
at this would suspend their hostilities, and scatter 
in a panic at the appearance of overwhelming force. 
''Soft-hearted philanthropists/' thought I, "may 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 383 

sigh long for their peaceful millennium; for from 
minnows up to men, life is an incessant battle." 

Evening approached at last; the tall mountain- 
tops around were still gray and bright in sunshine, 
while our deep glen was completely shadowed. I left 
the camp and ascended a neighboring hill, whose 
rocky summit commanded a wide view over the 
surrounding wilderness. Such a scene is even more 
impressive at that hour of sunset when the whole 
breathless waste, forest, precipice, and mountain 
side are bathed in the same ruddy light. The sun 
was still glaring through the stiff pines on the ridge 
of the western mountain. In a moment he was gone, 
and as the landscape rapidly darkened, I turned 
again toward the village. As I descended the hill, 
the howling of wolves and the barking of foxes came 
up out of the dim woods from far and near. The 
camp was glowing with a multitude of fires, and alive 
with dusky naked figures, whose tall shadows flitted 
among the surrounding crags. 

I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual 
place; that is, on the ground before the lodge of a 
certain warrior, who seemed to be generally known 
for his social qualities. I sat down to smoke a part- 
ing pipe with my savage friends. That day was the 
first of August, on which I had promised to meet 
Shaw at Fort Laramie. The fort was less than two 
day's journey distant, and that my friend need not 
suffer anxiety on my account, I resolved to push 
forward as rapidly as possible to the place of meeting. 



384 THE OREGON TRAIL 

I went to look after The Hail-Storm, and having 
found him, I offered him a handful of hawks'-bells 
and a paper of vermilion, on condition that he would 
guide me in the morning through the mountains 
within sight of Laramie Creek. 

The Hail-Storm ejaculated "How!'' and accepted 
the gift. Nothing more was said on either side; 
the matter was settled, and 1 lay down to sleep in 
Kongra-Tonga's lodge. 

Long before daylight Raymond shook me by the 
shoulder. 

"Everything is ready/' he said. 

I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and 
dark; and the whole camp seemed asleep. The 
Hail-Storm sat on horseback before the lodge, and 
my mare Pauline and the mule which Raymond 
rode were picketed near it. We saddled and made 
our other arrangements for the journey, but before 
these were completed the camp began to stir, and the 
lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as the squaws 
pulled them down in preparation for departure. 
Just as the light began to appear we left the ground, 
passing up through a narrow opening among the 
rocks which led eastward out of the meadow. Gain- 
ing the top of this passage, I turned round and sat 
looking back upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray 
light of the morning. All was alive with the bustle 
of preparation. I turned away, half unwilling to 
take a final leave of my savage associates. We turned 
to the right, passing among rocks and pine trees so 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 385 

dark that for a while we could scarcely see our way. 
The country in front was wild and broken, half hill, 
half plain, partly open and partly covered with woods 
of pine and oak. Barriers of lofty mountains en- 
compassed it; the woods were fresh and cool in the 
early morning; the peaks of the mountains were 
wreathed with mist, and sluggish vapors were en- 
tangled among the forests upon their sides. At 
length the black pinnacle of the tallest mountain 
was tipped with gold by the rising sun. About that 
time The Hail-Storm, who rode in front, gave a low 
exclamation. Some large animal leaped up from 
among the bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his horns 
thrown back over his neck, darted past us across the 
open space, and bounded like a mad thing away 
among the adjoining pines. Raymond was soon 
out of his saddle, but before he could fire, the animal 
was full two hundred yards distant. The ball struck 
its mark, though much too low for mortal effect. 
The elk, however, wheeled in its flight, and ran at 
full speed among the trees, nearly at right angles 
to his former course. I fired and broke his shoulder; 
still he moved on, limping down into the neighboring 
woody hollow, whither the young Indian followed 
and killed him. When we reached the spot we 
discovered him to be no elk, but a black-tailed deer, 
an animal nearly twice the size of the common deer, 
and quite unknown in these eastern regions. We 
began to cut him up; the reports of the rifles had 
reached the ears of the Indians, and before our task 



386 THE OREGON TRAIL 

was finished several of them came to the spot. Leav- 
ing the hide of the deer to The Hail-Storm, we hung 
as much of the meat as we wanted behind our saddles, 
left the rest to the Indians, and resumed our journey. 
Meanwhile the village was on its way, and had gone 
so far that to get in advance of it was impossible. 
Therefore we directed our course so as to strike its 
line of march at the nearest point. In a short time 
through the dark trunks of the pines, we could see 
the figures of the Indians, as they passed on in their 
long array. Once more we were among them. They 
were moving with even more than their usual precipi- 
tation, crowded close together in a narrow pass 
between rocks and old pine trees. The young girls 
and the children clambered upon the backs of the 
horses or clung to the baskets of the travaux, while 
the multitude of dogs not a little increased the confu- 
sion. We were on the eastern descent of the moun- 
tain, and soon came to a rough and difficult defile, 
leading down a very steep declivity. The whole swarm 
poured down together, filling the rocky passage- 
way like some turbulent mountain stream. I shall 
never forget a single feature of that scene. The 
mountains before us were on fire, and had been so 
for weeks. The view in front was obscured by a 
vast dim sea of smoke and vapor, while on either 
hand the tall cliffs, bearing aloft their crest of pines, 
thrust their heads boldly through it, and the sharp 
pinnacles and broken ridges of the mountains beyond 
them were faintly traceable as through a veil. The 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 387 

scene in itself was most grand and imposing, but 
with the savage multitude, the armed warriors, the 
naked children, the gayly appareled girls, pouring 
impetuously down the heights, it would have formed 
a noble subject for a painter, and only the pen of 
a Scott could have done it justice in description. 

We passed over a burnt track where the ground 
was hot beneath the horses' feet, and between two 
blazing mountain sides. Before long we had descended 
to a softer region, where we found a succession of 
little valleys watered by a stream, along the borders 
of which grew abundance of wild gooseberries and 
currants, and the children and many of the men 
straggled from the line of march to gather them as we 
passed along. Descending still farther, the view 
changed rapidly. The burning mountains were 
behind us, and through the open valleys in front we 
could see the ocean-like prairie, stretching beyond the 
sight. After passing through a line of trees that 
skirted the brook, the Indians filed out upon the plains. 
I was thirsty and knelt down by the little stream to 
drink. As I mounted again, I very carelessly left my 
rifle among the grass, and my thoughts being other- 
wise absorbed, I rode for some distance before dis- 
covering its absence. As the reader may conceive, 
I lost no time in turning about and galloping back in 
search of it. Passing the line of Indians, I watched 
every warrior as he rode by me at a canter, and at 
length discovered my rifle in the hands of one of them, 
who, on my approaching to claim it, immediately 



388 THE OREGON TRAIL 

gave it up. Having no other means of acknowledging 
the obligation, I took off one of my spurs and gave it 
to him. He was greatly delighted, looking upon it 
as a distinguished mark of favor, and immediately 
held out his foot for me to buckle it on. As soon as I 
had done so, he struck it with all his force into the 
side of his horse, who gave a violent leap. The Indian 
laughed and spurred harder than before. At this 
the horse shot away like an arrow, amid the screams 
and laughter of the squaws, and the ejaculations of 
the men, who exclaimed: "Washtay! — Good!" at the 
potent effect of my gift. The Indian had no saddle, 
and nothing in place of a bridle except a leather string 
tied round the horse's jaw. The animal was of course 
wholly uncontrollable, and stretched away at full 
speed over the prairie, till he and his rider vanished 
behind a distant swell. I never saw the man again, 
but I presume no harm came to him. An Indian on 
horseback has more lives than a cat. 

The village encamped on a scorching prairie, close 
to the foot of the mountains. The heat was most 
intense and penetrating. The coverings of the lodges 
were raised a foot or more from the ground, in order 
to procure some circulation of air; and Reynal thought 
proper to lay aside his trapper's dress of buckskin and 
assume the costume of an Indian, which closely re- 
sembles that adopted by Father Adam. Thus elegantly 
attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on a buffalo 
robe, alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the 
pipe which he and I passed between us. There was 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 389 

present also a select circle of Indian friends and rela- 
tives. A small boiled puppy was served up as a 
parting feast, to which was added, by way of dessert, 
a wooden bowl of gooseberries, from the mountains. 

''Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the 
opening of his lodge; ''do you see that line of buttes 
about fifteen miles off? Well, now, do you see that 
farthest one, with the white speck on the face of it? 
Do you think you ever saw it before?" 

"It looks to me," said I, "like the hill that we 
were camped under when we were on Laramie Creek, 
six or eight weeks ago." 

"You've hit it," answered Reynal. 

"Go, and bring in the animals, Raymond," said I; 
we'll camp there to-night, and start for the fort in 
the morning." 

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. 
We saddled them, and in the meantime a number of 
Indians collected about us. The virtues of Pauline, 
my strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, were well 
known in camp, and several of the visitors were 
mounted upon good horses which they had brought 
me as presents. I promptly declined their offers, 
since accepting them would have involved the neces- 
sity of transferring poor Pauline into their barbarous 
hands. We took leave of Reynal, but not of the 
Indians, who are accustomed to dispense with such 
superfluous ceremonies. Leaving the camp we rode 
straight over the prairie toward the white-faced bluff, 
whose pale ridges swelled gently against the horizon, 



390 THE OREGON TRAIL 

like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose name 
I forget, though the ugliness of his face and the ghastly 
width of his mouth dwell vividly in my recollection. 
The antelope were numerous, but we did not heed 
them. We rode directly toward our destination, 
over the arid plains and barren hills; until, late in the 
afternoon, half ^ent with heat, thirst, and fatigue, 
we saw a gladdening sight: the long line of trees and 
the deep gulf that mark the course of Laramie Creek. 
Passing through the growth of huge dilapidated old 
cotton-wood trees that bordered the creek, we rode 
across to the other side. The rapid and foaming 
waters were filled with fish playing and splashing in 
the shallows. As we gained the farther bank, our 
horses turned eagerly to drink, and we, kneeling on 
the sand, followed their example. We had not gone 
far before the scene began to grow familiar. 

"We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 

There stood the big tree under which we had 
encamped so long; there were the white cliffs that 
used to look down upon our tent when it stood at the 
bend of the creek; there was the meadow in which 
our horses had grazed for weeks, and a little farther 
on, the prairie-dog village where I had beguiled many 
a languid hour by scooping out the brains of the 
unfortunate inhabitants with rifle bullets. 

"We are going to catch it now," said Raymond, 
turning his broad, vacant face up toward the sky. 

In truth, the landscape, the cliffs and the meadow, 
the stream and the groves, were darkening fast. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 391 

Black masses of cloud were swelling up in the south, 
and the thunder was growling ominously. 

^'We will camp there/' I said, pointing to a dense 
grove of trees lower down the stream. Raymond 
and I turned toward it, but the Indian stopped and 
called earnestly after us. When we demanded what 
was the matter, he said that the ghosts of two warriors 
were always among those trees, and that if we slept 
there, they would scream and throw stones at us all 
night, and perhaps steal our horses before morning. 
Thinking it as well to humor him, we left behind us 
the haunt of these extraordinary ghosts, and passed 
on toward Chugwater, riding at full gallop, for the 
big drops began to patter down. Soon we came in 
sight of the poplar saplings that grew about the mouth 
of the little stream. We leaped to the ground, threw 
off our saddles, turned our horses loose, and drawing 
our knives, began to slash among the bushes to cut 
twigs and branches for making a shelter against the 
rain. Bending down the taller saplings as they grew, 
we piled the young shoots upon them, and thus made 
a convenient penthouse; but all our labor was useless. 
The storm scarcely touched us. Half a mile on our 
right the rain was pouring down Kke a cataract, and 
the thunder roared over the prairie like a battery of 
cannon; while we by good fortune received only a 
few heavy drops from the skirt of the passing cloud. 
The weather cleared and the sun set gloriously. 
Sitting close under our leafy canopy, we proceeded to 
discuss a substantial meal of ivasna which Weah- 



392 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Washtay had given me. The Indian had brought 
with him his pipe and a bag of shongsasha; so before 
lying down to sleep, we sat for some time smoking 
together. Previously, however, our wide-mouthed 
friend had taken the precaution of carefully examining 
the neighborhood. He reported that eight men, 
counting them on his fingers, had been encamped there 
not long before. Bisonette, Paul Dorion, Antoine 
Le Rouge, Richardson, and four others, whose names 
he could not tell. All this proved strictly correct. 
By what instinct he had arrived at such accurate 
conclusions, I am utterly at a loss to divine. 

It was still quite dark when I awoke and called Ray- 
mond. The Indian was already gone, having chosen 
to go on before us to the fort. Setting out after him, 
we rode for some time in complete darkness, and 
when the sun at length rose, glowing like a fiery ball 
of copper, we were ten miles distant from the fort. 
That path which I had traveled so often was well 
known to me. I welcomed every familiar object like 
one returning to his home after a long absence. At 
length, from the broken summit of a tall sandy bluff 
we could see Fort Laramie, miles before us, standing 
by the side of the stream like a little gray speck in the 
midst of the boundless desolation. I stopped my 
horse, and sat for a moment looking down upon it. 
It seemed to me the very center of comfort and civili- 
zation. We were not long in approaching it, for we 
rode at speed the greater part of the way. Laramie 
Creek still intervened between us and the friendly 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 393 

walls. Entering the water at the point where we 
had struck upon the bank, we raised our feet to the 
saddle behind us, and thus, kneeling as it were on 
horseback, passed dry-shod through the swift current. 
As we rode up the bank, a number of men appeared 
in the gateway. Three of them came forward to 
meet us. In a moment I distinguished Shaw; Henry 
Chatillon followed with his face of manly simplicity 
and frankness, and Delorier came last, with a broad 
grin of welcome. The meeting was not on either side 
one of mere ceremony. For my own part, the change 
was a most agreeable one from the society of savages 
and men little better than savages, to that of my gallant 
and high-minded companion and our noble-hearted 
guide. My appearance was equally gratifying to 
Shaw, who was beginning to entertain some very 
uncomfortable surmises concerning me. 

Bordeaux greeted me very cordially, and shouted 
to the cook. This functionary w^as a new acquisition, 
having lately come from Fort Pierre with the trading 
wagons. Whatever skill he might have boasted, he 
had not the most promising materials to exercise it 
upon. He set before me, however, a breakfast of 
biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed like a new 
phase of existence, to be seated once more on a bench, 
with a knife and fork, a plate and teacup, and some- 
thing resembling a table before me. The coffee seemed 
delicious, and the bread was a most welcome novelty, 
since for three weeks I had eaten scarcely anything 
but meat, and that for the most part without salt. 



394 THE OREGON TRAIL 

The meal also had the relish of good company, for 
opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille.^ If 
one is anxious thoroughly to appreciate the value of 
a congenial companion, he has only to spend a few 
weeks by himself in an Ogallallah village. And if he can 
contrive to add to his seclusion a debilitating and 
somewhat critical illness, his perceptions upon this 
subject will be rendered considerably more vivid. 

Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the fort. 
I found him established in his old quarters, a large 
apartment usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. 
In one corner was a soft and luxurious pile of excellent 
buffalo-robes, and here I lay down. Shaw brought 
me three books. 

"Here," said he, '4s your Shakspere and Byron, ^ 
and here is the Old Testament, which has as much 
poetry in it as the other two put together." 

I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater 
part of that day I lay on the buffalo-robes, fairly 
reveling in the creations of that resplendent genius 
which has achieved no more signal triumph than that 
of half beguiling us to forget the pitiful and un- 
manly character of its possessor. 



CHAPTER XIX 

The Lonely Journey 

Let him that crawls, enamoured of decay, 
Cling to his couch and sicken years away; 
Heave his thick breath and toss his languid head; 
Ours the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed. 

The Corsair. 

On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw 
and I were lounging on two buffalo-robes in the large 
apartment hospitably assigned to us.; Henry Chatillon 
also was present, busy about the harness and weapons, 
which had been brought into the room, and two or 
three Indians were crouching on the floor, eying us 
with their fixed, unwavering gaze. 

'^I have been well off here," said Shaw, ^'in all 
respects but one: there is no good shongsasha to be 
had for love or money." 

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of 
excellent quality, which I had brought from the Black 
Hills. ^'Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's 
chopping-board, or give it to that Indian, and let him 
cut the mixture; they understand it better than any 
white man." 

The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark 
and the tobacco in due proportions, filled the pipe and 

395 



396 THE OREGON TRAIL 

lighted it. This done, my companion and I proceeded 
to deliberate on our future course of proceeding; first, 
however, Shaw acquainted me with some incidents 
which had occurred at the fort during my absence. 

About a week previous four men had arrived from 
beyond the mountains: Sublette, Reddick, and two 
others. Just before reaching the fort they had met 
a large party of Indians, chiefly young men. All of 
them belonged to the village of our old friend Smoke, 
who, with his whole band of adherents, professed the 
greatest friendship for the whites. The travelers 
therefore approached, and began to converse without 
the least suspicion. Suddenly, however, their bridles 
were violently seized, and they were ordered to dis- 
mount. Instead of complying, they struck their 
horses with full force, and broke away from the 
Indians. As they galloped off they heard a yell 
behind them, mixed with a burst of derisive laughter, 
and the reports of several guns. None of them were 
hurt, though Reddick's bridle rein was cut by a bullet 
within an inch of his hand. After this taste of Indian 
hostility they felt for the moment no disposition to 
encounter further risks. They intended to pursue 
the route southward along the foot of the mountains 
to Bent's Fort; and as our plans coincided with theirs, 
they proposed to join forces. Finding, however, that 
I did not return, they grew impatient of inaction, 
forgot their late escape, and set out without us, 
promising to wait our arrival at Bent's Fort. From 
thence we were to make the long journey to the settle- 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 397 

ments in company, as the path was not a little danger- 
ous, being infested by hostile Pawnees and Comanches. 

We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there 
still another reinforcement. A young Kentuckian of 
the true Kentucky blood, generous, impetuous, and 
a gentleman withal, had come out to the mountains 
with Russell's party of California emigrants. One of 
his chief objects, as he gave out, was to kill an Indian; 
an exploit which he afterward succeeded in achieving, 
much to the jeopardy of ourselves and others who had 
to pass through the country of the dead Pawnee's 
enraged relatives. Having become disgusted with 
his emigrant associates, he left them, and had some 
time before set out w^ith a party of companions for 
the head of the Arkansas. He sent us previously a 
letter, intimating that he would wait until we arrived 
at Bent's Fort, and accompany us thence to the 
settlements. When, however, he came to the fort, 
he found there a party of forty men about to make the 
homeward journey. He wisely preferred to avail 
himself of so strong an escort. Mr. Sublette and his 
companions also set out, in order to overtake this 
company; so that on reaching Bent's Fort, some six 
weeks after, we found ourselves deserted by our allies 
and thrown once more upon our own resources. , 

But I am anticipating. When, before leaving the 
settlement we had made inquiries concerning this part 
of the country of General Kearney, Mr. Mackenzie,^ 
Captain Wyeth," and others well acquainted with it, 
they had all advised us by no means to attempt this 



398 THE OREGON TRAIL 

southward journey with fewer than fifteen or twenty 
men. The danger consists in the chance of encounter- 
ing Indian war-parties. Sometimes throughout the 
whole length of the journey (a distance of three hun- 
dred and fifty miles) one does not meet a single human 
being; frequently, however, the route is beset by 
Arapahoes and other unfriendly tribes; in which 
case the scalp of the adventurer is in imminent peril. 
As to the escort of fifteen or twenty men, such a force 
of whites could at that time scarcely be collected by 
the whole country; and had the case been otherwise, 
the expense of securing them, together with the 
necessary number of horses, would have been ex- 
tremely heavy. At the same time, we had resolved 
upon pursuing this southward course. There were, in- 
deed, two other routes from Fort Laramie; but both of 
these were less interesting, and neither was free from 
danger. Being unable therefore to procure the 
fifteen or twenty men recommended, we determined 
to set out with those we had already in our employ: 
Henry Chatillon, Delorier, and Raymond. The men 
themselves made no objection, nor would they have 
made any had the journey been more dangerous; for 
Henry was without fear, and the other two without 
thought. 

Shaw and I were much better fitted for this mode 
of traveling than we had been on betaking ourselves 
to the prairies for the first time a few months before. 
The daily routine had ceased to be a novelty. All the 
details of the journey and the camp had become 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 399 

familiar to us. We had seen life under a new aspect; 
the human biped had been reduced to his primitive 
condition. We had lived without law to protect, a 
roof to shelter, or a garment of cloth to cover us. One 
of us at least had been without bread, and without 
salt to season his food. Our idea of what is indis- 
pensable to human existence and enjoyment had been 
wonderfully curtailed, and a horse, a rifle, and a knife 
seemed to make up the whole of life's necessaries. 
For these once obtained, together with the skill to 
use them, all else that is essential would follow in 
their train, and a host of luxuries besides. One other 
lesson our short prairie experience had taught us: 
that of profound contentment in the present, and 
utter contempt for what the future might bring forth. 
These principles established, we prepared to leave 
Fort Laramie. On the fourth day of August, early 
in the afternoon, we bade a final adieu to its hospitable 
gateway. Again Shaw and I were riding side by 
side on the prairie. For the first fifty miles we had 
companions with us; Troche, a little trapper, and 
Rouville, a nondescript in the employ of the Fur 
Company, who were going to join the trader Bison- 
ette at his encampment near the head of Horse 
Creek. We rode only six or eight miles that after- 
noon before we came to a little brook traversing the 
barren prairie. All along its course grew copses of 
young wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, and 
almost concealing the gliding thread of water with 
their dense growth, while on each side rose swells of 



400 THE OREGON TRAIL 

rich green grass. Here we encamped; and being 
much too indolent to pitch our tent, we flung our 
saddles on the ground, spread a pair of buffalo-robes, 
lay down upon them, and began to smoke. Mean- 
while, Delorier busied himself with his hissing frying- 
pan, and Raymond stood guard over the band of 
grazing horses. Delorier had an active assistant in 
Rouville, who professed great skill in the culinary 
art, and seizing upon a fork, began to lend his zealous 
aid in making ready supper. Indeed, according to 
his own belief, Rouville was a man of universal knowl- 
edge, and he lost no opportunity to display his mani- 
fold accomplishments. He had been a circus-rider 
at St. Louis, and once he rode round Fort Laramie 
on his head, to the utter bewilderment of all the 
Indians. He was also noted as the wit of the fort; 
and as he had considerable humor and abundant 
vivacity, he contributed more that night to the 
liveliness of the camp than all the rest of the party 
put together. At one instant he would be kneeling 
by Delorier, instructing him in the true method of 
frying antelope steaks, then he would come and seat 
himself at our side, dilating upon the orthodox fashion 
of braiding up a horse's tail, telling apocryphal^ 
stories how he had killed a buffalo bull with a knife^ 
having first cut off his tail when at full speed, or 
relating whimsical anecdotes of the bourgeois Papin. 
At last he snatched up a volume of Shakspere that 
was lying on the grass, and halted and stumbled 
through a line or two to prove that he could read. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 401 

He went gamboling about the camp, chattering like 
some frolicsome ape; and whatever he was doing at 
one moment, the presumption was a sure one that he 
would not be doing it the next. His companion 
Troche sat silently on the grass, not speaking a word, 
but keeping a vigilant eye on a very ugly little Utah 
squaw, of whom he was extremely jealous. 

On the next day we traveled farther, crossing the 
wide sterile basin called Goche's Hole.^ Toward 
night we became involved among deep ravines; and 
being also unable to find water, our journey was pro- 
tracted to a very late hour. On the next morning 
we had to pass a long line of bluffs, whose raw sides, 
wrought upon by rains and storms, were of a ghastly 
whiteness most oppressive to the sight. As we 
ascended a gap in these hills, the way was marked by 
huge foot-prints, like those of a human giant. They 
were the track of the grizzly bear; and on the previous 
day also we had seen abundance of them along the 
dry channels of the streams we had passed. Imme- 
diately after this we were crossing a barren plain, 
spreading in long and gentle undulations to the 
horizon. Though the sun was bright, there was a 
species of light haze in the atmosphere. The distant 
hills assumed strange, distorted forms, and the edge 
of the horizon was continually changing its aspect. 
Shaw and I were riding together, and Henry Chatillon 
was alone, a few rods before us; he stopped his horse 
suddenly, and turning round with the peculiar eager 
and earnest expression which he always wore when 



402 THE OREGON TRAIL 

excited, he called us to come forward. Something of 
interest had occurred, and we galloped to his side. 
With a glittering eye, Henry pointed toward a black 
speck on the gray swell of the prairie, apparently 
about a mile off. ''li must be a bear," said he; ^'come, 
now, we shall all have some sport. Better fun to fight 
him than to fight an old buffalo bull; grizzly bear so 
strong and smart." 

So we all galloped forward together, prepared for 
a hard fight; for these bears, though clumsy in appear- 
ance and extremely large, are incredibly fierce and 
active. The swell of the prairie concealed the black 
object from our view. Immediately after it appeared 
again. But now it seemed quite near to us; and as 
we looked at it in astonishment, it suddenly separated 
into two parts, each of which took wing and flew away. 
We stopped our horses and looked round at Henry, 
whose face exhibited a curious mixture of mirth and 
mortification. His hawk 's eye had been so completely 
deceived by the peculiar atmosphere that he had 
mistaken two large crows at the distance of fifty rods 
for a grizzly bear a mile off. To the journey's end 
Henry never heard the last of the grizzly bear with 
wings. 

In the afternoon we came to the foot of a consider- 
able hill. As we ascended it Rouville began to ask 
questions concerning our condition and prospects at 
home, and Shaw was edifying him with a minute 
account of an imaginary wife and child, to which he 
listened with implicit faith. Reaching the top of the 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 403 

hill we saw the windings of Horse Creek on the plains 
below us, and a little on the left we could distinguish 
the camp of Bisonette among the trees and copses 
along the course of the stream. Rouville's face 
assumed just then a most ludicrously blank expres- 
sion. We inquired what was the matter; when it 
appeared that Bisonette had sent him from this place 
to Fort Laramie with the sole object of bringing back 
a supply of tobacco. Our rattlebrain friend, from 
the time of his reaching the fort up to the present 
moment, had entirely forgotten the object of his 
journey, and had ridden a dangerous hundred miles 
for nothing. Descending to Horse Creek we forded 
it, and on the opposite bank a solitary Indian sat on 
horseback under a tree. He said nothing, but turned 
and led the way toward the camp. Bisonette had 
made choice of an admirable position. The stream, 
with its thick growth of trees, inclosed on three sides 
a wide green meadow, where about forty Dahcotahs 
lodges were pitched in a circle, and beyond them half 
a dozen lodges of the friendly Cheyenne. Bisonette 
himself lived in the Indian manner. Riding up to 
his lodge, we found him seated at the head of it, sur- 
rounded by various appliances of comfort not common 
on the prairie. His squaw was near him, and rosy 
children were scrambling about in printed-calico gowns; 
Paul Dorion also, with his leathery face and old white 
capote, was seated in the lodge, together with Antoine 
Le Rouge, a half-breed Pawnee, Sibille, a trader, and 
several other white men. 



404 THE OREGON TRAIL 

''It will do you no harm/' said Bisonette, "to 
stay here with us for a day or two, before you start 
for the Pueblo." 1 

We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on 
a rising ground above the camp and close to the edge 
of the trees. Bisonette soon invited us to a feast, 
and we suffered abundance of the same sort of atten- 
tion from his Indian associates. The reader may 
possibly recollect that when I joined the Indian 
village, beyond the Black Hills, I found that a few 
families were absent, having declined to pass the 
mountains along with the rest. The Indians in 
Bisonette 's camp consisted of these very families, 
and many of them came to me that evening to inquire 
after their relatives and friends. They were not a 
little mortified to learn that while they, from their 
own timidity and indolence, were almost in a starving 
condition, the rest of the village had provided 
their lodges for the next season, laid in a great stock 
of provisions, and were living in abundance and 
luxury. Bisonette 's companions had been sustaining 
themselves for some time on wild cherries, which 
the squaws pounded up, stones and all, and spread 
on buffalo robes to dry in the sun; they were then 
eaten without further preparation, or used as an 
ingredient in various delectable compounds. 

On the next day the camp was in commotion with 
a new arrival. A single Indian had come with his 
family the whole way from the Arkansas. As he 
passed among the lodges he put on an expression of 



THE LONEL Y JO URNE Y 405 

unusual dignity and importance, and gave out that 
he had brought great news to tell the whites. Soon 
after the squaws had erected his lodge, he sent his 
little son to invite all the white men, and all the more 
distinguished Indians, to a feast. The guests arrived 
and sat wedged together, shoulder to shoulder, 
within the hot and suffocating lodge. The Stabber, 
for that was our entertainer 's name, had killed an old 
buffalo bull on his way. This veteran's boiled tripe, 
tougher than leather, formed the main item of the 
repast. For the rest, it consisted of wild cherries and 
grease boiled together in a large copper kettle. The 
feast was distributed, and for a moment all was silent, 
strenuous exertion; then each guest, with one or two 
exceptions, however, turned his wooden dish bottom 
upward to prove that he had done full justice to his en- 
tertainer's hospitality. The Stabber next produced 
his chopping board, on which he prepared the mixture 
for smoking, and filled several pipes, which circulated 
among the company. This done, he seated himself 
upright on his couch, and began with much gesticu- 
lation to tell his story. I will not weary the reader 
by repeating his childish jargon. It was so entangled, 
like the greater part of an Indian's stories, with 
absurd and contradictory details, that it was almost 
impossible to disengage from it a single particle of 
truth. All that we could gather was the following: 
He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen 
six great war-parties of whites. He had never 
believed before that the whole world contained half 



406 THE OREGON TRAIL 

so many white men. They all had large horses, long 
knives, and short rifles, and some of them were 
attired alike in the most splendid war-dresses he had 
ever seen. From this account it was clear that 
bodies of dragoons and perhaps also of volunteer 
cavalry had been passing up the Arkansas. The 
Stabber had also seen a great many of the white 
lodges of the Meneaska, drawn by their long-horned 
buffalo. These could be nothing else than covered 
ox-wagons used no doubt in transporting stores for 
the troops. Soon after seeing' this, our host had 
met an Indian who had lately come from among the 
Comanches. The latter had told him that all the 
Mexicans had gone out to a great buffalo hunt; that 
the Americans had hid themselves in a ravine. AVhen 
the Mexicans had shot away all their arrows, the 
Americans had fired their guns, raised their war- 
whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. We could 
only infer from this that war had been declared with 
Mexico, and a battle fought in which the Americans 
were victorious. When, some weeks after, we arrived 
at the Pueblo, we heard of General Kearney's march^ 
up the Arkansas and of General Taylor's victories at 
Matamoras. 

As the sun was setting that evening a great crowd 
gathered on the plain by the side of our tent, to try 
the speed of their horses. Of these there were several 
scores of every shape, size, and color. Some came 
from California, some from the States, some from 
among the mountains, and some from the wild bands 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 407 

of the prairie. They were of every hue — white, 
black, red, and gray, or mottled and clouded with a 
strange variety of colors. They all had a wild and 
startled look, very different from the staid and sober 
aspect of a well-bred city steed. Those most noted 
for swiftness and spirit were decorated with eagle- 
feathers dangling from their manes and tails. Fifty 
or sixty Dahcotahs were present, wrapped from head 
to foot in their heavy robes of whitened hide. There 
were also a considerable number of the Cheyenne, 
many of whom wore gaudy Mexican ponchos^ swathed 
around their shoulders, but leaving the right arm 
bare. Mingled among the crowd of Indians were a 
number of Canadians, chiefly in the employ of Bison- 
ette; men, whose home is the wilderness, and who 
love the camp fire better than the domestic hearth. 
They are contented and happy in the midst of hard- 
ship, privation, and danger. Their cheerfulness and 
gayety is irrepressible, and no people on earth under- 
stand better how "to daff care aside and bid it pass." 
Besides these, were two or three half-breeds, a race 
of rather extraordinary composition, being according 
to the common saying half Indian, half white man, 
and half devil. Antoine Le Rouge was the most 
conspicuous among them, with his loose pantaloons 
and his fluttering calico shirt. A handkerchief was 
bound round his head to confine his black snaky hair, 
and his small eyes twinkled beneath it, with a mis- 
chievous luster. He had a fine cream-colored horse 
whose speed he must needs try along with the rest. 



408 THE OREGON TRAIL 

So he threw off the rude high-peaked saddle, and 
substituting a piece of buffalo-robe, leaped lightly 
into his seat. The space was cleared, the word was 
given, and he and his Indian rival darted out like 
lightning from among the crowd, each stretching 
forward over his horse's neck and plying his heavy 
Indian whip with might and main. A moment, and 
both were lost in the gloom; but Antoine soon came 
riding back victorious, exultingly patting the neck 
of his quivering and panting horse. 

About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a 
buffalo-robe on the ground by the side of our cart, 
Raymond came up and woke me. Something, he 
said, was going forward which I would like to see. 
Looking down into the camp I saw, on the farther 
side of it, a great number of Indians gathered around 
a fire, the bright glare of which made them visible 
through the thick "darkness; while from the midst of 
them proceeded a loud, measured chant which would 
have killed Paganini^ outright, broken occasionally 
by a burst of sharp yells. I gathered the robe around 
me, for the night was cold, and walked down to the 
spot. The dark throng of Indians was so dense that 
they almost intercepted the light of the flame. As I 
was pushing among them with but little ceremony, 
a chief interposed himself, and I was given to under- 
stand that a white man must not approach the scene 
of their solemnities too closely. By passing around 
to the other side, where there was a little opening in 
the crowd, I could see clearly what was going forward, 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 409 

without intruding my unhallowed presence into the 
inner circle. The society of the Strong Hearts^ were 
engaged in one of their dances. The Strong Hearts 
are a warlike association, comprising men of both the 
Dahcotah and Cheyenne natio s, and entirely com- 
posed, or supposed to be so, of young braves of the 
highest mettle. Its fundamental principle is the 
admirable one of never retreating from any enterprise 
once commenced. All these Indian associations have a 
tutelary^ spirit. That of the Strong Hearts is embod- 
ied in the fox, an animal which a white man would 
hardly have selected for a similar purpose, though 
his subtle and cautious character agrees well enough 
with an Indian's notions of what is honorable in war- 
fare. The dancers were circling round and round 
the fire, each figure brightly illumined at one moment 
by the yellow light, and at the next drawn in blackest 
shadow as it passed between the flame and the spec- 
tator. They would imitate with the most ludicrous 
exactness the motions and the voice of their sly 
patron the fox. Then a startling yell would be 
given. Many other warriors would leap into the ring, 
and with faces upturned toward the starless sky, they 
would all stamp, and whoop, and brandish their 
weapons like so many frantic devils. 

Until the next afternoon we were still remaining 
w^ith Bisonette. My companion and I with our three 
attendants then left his camp for the Pueblo, a dis- 
tance of three hundred miles, and we supposed the 
journey would occupy about a fortnight. During 



410 THE OREGON TRAIL 

this time we all earnestly hoped that we might not 
meet a single human being, for should' we encounter 
any, they would in all probability be enemies, ferocious 
robbers and murderers, in whose eyes our rifles would 
be our only passports. For the first two days nothing 
worth mentioning took place. On the third morning, 
however, an untoward incident occurred. We were 
encamped by the side of a little brook in an extensive 
hollow of the plain. Delorier was up long before 
daylight, and before he began to prepare breakfast 
he turned loose all the horses, as in duty bound. 
There was a cold mist clinging close to the ground, 
and by the time the rest of us were awake the animals 
were invisible. It was only after a long and anxious 
search that we could discover by their tracks the 
direction they had taken. They had all set off for 
Fort Laramie, following the guidance of a mutinous 
old mule, and though many of them were hobbled 
they had traveled three miles before they could be 
overtaken and driven back. 

For the following two or three days we were passing • 
over a boundless arid desert. The only vegetation 
was a few tufts of short grass, dried and shriveled by I 
the heat. There was an abundance of strange insects 
and reptiles. Huge crickets, black and bottle-green, 
and wingless grasshoppers of the most extravagant 
dimensions, were tumbling about our horses' feet, i 
and lizards without number were darting like light- j 
ning among the tufts of grass. The most curious ' 
animal, however, was that commonly called the 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 411 

horned frog. I caught one of them and consigned 
him to the care of Delorier, who tied him up in a 
moccasin. About a month after this I examined the 
prisoner's condition, and finding him still lively and 
active, I provided him with a cage of buffalo hide, which 
was hung up in the cart. In this manner he arrived 
safely at the settlements. From thence he traveled 
the whole way to Boston packed closely in a trunk, 
being regaled with fresh air regularly every night. 
When he reached his destination he was deposited 
under a glass case, where he sat for some months in 
great tranquillity and composure, alternately dilating 
and contracting his white throat to the admiration of 
his visitors. At length, one morning, about the 
middle of winter, he gave up the ghost. His 
death was attributed to starvation, a very probable 
conclusion, since for six months he had taken no food 
whatever, though the sympathy of his juvenile 
admirers had tempted his palate with a great variety 
of delicacies. We found also animals of a somewhat 
larger growth. The number of prairie dogs was 
absolutely astounding. Frequently the hard and 
dry prairie would be thickly covered, for many miles 
together, with the little mounds w^hich they make 
around the mouths of their burrows, and small squeak- 
ing voices yelped at us as we passed along. The 
noses of the inhabitants would be just visible at the 
mouths of their holes, but no sooner was their curi- 
osity satisfied than they would instantly vanish. 
Some of the bolder dogs — though in fact they are no 



412 THE OREGON TRAIL 

dogs at all, but little marmots rather smaller than a 
rabbit — would sit yelping at us on the tops of their 
mounds, jerking their tails emphatically with every 
shrill cry they uttered. As the danger drew nearer 
they would wheel about, toss their heels into the air, 
and dive in a twinkling down into their burrows. 
Toward sunset, and especially if rain were threaten- 
ing, the whole community would make their appear- 
ance above ground. We would see them gathered 
in large knots around the burrow of some favorite 
citizen. There they would all sit erect, their tails spread 
out on the ground, and their paws hanging down 
before their white breasts, chattering and squeaking 
with the utmost vivacity upon some topic of common 
interest, while the proprietor of the burrow, with his 
head just visible on the top of his mound, would sit 
looking down with a complacent countenance on the 
enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, others would 
be running about from burrow to burrow, as if on 
some errand of the last importance to their subter- 
ranean commonwealth. The snakes are apparently 
the prairie dog's worst enemies, at least I think too 
well of the latter to suppose that they associate on 
friendly terms with these slimy intruders, who may 
be seen at all times basking among their holes, into 
which they always retreat when disturbed. Small 
owls, with wise and grave countenances, also make 
their abode with the prairie dogs, though on what 
terms they live together I could never ascertain. 
The manners and customs, the political and domestic 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 413 

economy of these little marmots is worthy of closer 
attention than one is able to give when pushing by 
forced marches through their country, with his 
thoughts engrossed by objects of greater moment. 

On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp we 
saw late in the afternoon what we supposed to be a 
considerable stream, but on our approaching it we 
found to our mortification nothing but a dry bed of 
sand into which all the water had sunk and disap- 
peared. We separated, some riding in one direction 
and some in another along its course. Still we found 
no traces of water, not even so much as a wet spot in 
the sand. The old cotton-wood trees that grew along 
the bank, lamentably abused by lightning and 
tempest, were withering with the drought and on 
the dead limbs, at the summit of the tallest, half a 
dozen crows were hoarsely cawing like birds of evil 
omen as they were. We had no alternative but to 
keep on. There was no water nearer than the South 
Fork of the Platte, about ten miles distant. We 
moved forward, angry and silent, over a desert as 
flat as the outspread ocean. 

The sky had been obscured since the morning l)y 
thin mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds 
were gathered together in the west. They rose to a 
great height above the ' horizon, and looking up 
toward them I distinguished one mass darker than 
the rest and of a peculiar conical form, I happened 
to look again and still could see it as before. At 
some moments it was dimly seen, at others its outline 



414 THE OREGON TRAIL 

was sharp and distinct; but while the clouds around 
it were shifting, changing, and dissolving away, it ' 
still towered aloft in the midst of them, fixed and 
immovable. It must, thought I, be the summit of a ; 
mountain, and yet its height staggered me. My ■ 
conclusion was right, however. It was Long's Peak,* 
once believed to be one of the highest of the Rocky 
Mountain chain, though more recent discoveries have 
proved the contrary. The thickening gloom soon 
hid it from view and we never saw it again, for on the 
following day and for some time after, the air was so 
full of mist that the view of distant objects was entirely 
intercepted. 

It grew very late. Turning from our direct course 
we made for the river at its nearest point, though in 
the utter darkness it was not easy to direct our way 
with much precision. Raymond rode on one side 
and Henry on the other. We could hear each of 
them shouting that he had come upon a deep ravine. 
We steered at random between Scylla and Charybdis,^ 
and soon after became, as it seemed, inextricably 
involved with deep chasms all around us, while the 
darkness was such that we could not see a rod in any 
direction. We partially extricated ourselves by 
scrambling, cart and all, through a shallow ravine. 
We came next to a steep descent, down which we 
plunged without well knowing what was at the bot- 
tom. There was a great cracking of sticks and dry 
twigs. Over our heads were certain large shadowy 
objects, and in front something like the faint gleaming 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 415 

of a dark sheet of water. Raymond ran his horse 
against a tree; Henry alighted, and feeling on the 
ground declared that there was grass enough for the 
horses. Before takino- off his saddle each man led 
his own horses down to the water in the best way he 
could. Then picketing two or three of the evil- 
disposed, we turned the rest loose and lay down among 
the dry sticks to sleep. In the morning we found 
ourselves close to the South Fork of the Platte on a 
spot surrounded by bushes and rank grass. Com- 
pensating ourselves with a hearty breakfast for the 
ill fare of the previous night, we set forward again 
on our journey. When only two or three rods from 
the camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, level his gun, and 
after a long aim fire at some object in the grass. 
Delorier next jumped forward and began to dance 
about, belaboring the unseen enemy with a whip. 
Then he stooped down and drew out of the grass by 
the neck an enormous rattlesnake, with his head 
completely shattered by Shaw's bullet. As Delorier 
held him out at arm's length with an exulting grin, 
his tail, which still kept slowly writhing about, almost 
touched the ground, and the body in the largest part 
was as thick as a stout man 's arm. He had fourteen 
rattles, but the end of his tail was blunted, as if he 
could once have boasted of many more. From this 
time till we reached the Pueblo we killed at least four 
or five of these snakes every day as they lay coiled 
and rattling on the hot sand. Shaw was the St. 
Patrick^ of the party, and whenever he or anyone 



416 THE OREGON TRAIL 

else killed a snake he always pulled off his tail and 
stowed it away in his bullet-pouch, which was soon 
crammed with an edifying collection of rattles, great 
and small. Delorier, with his whip, also came in for 
a share of the praise. A day or two after this he 
triumphantly produced a small snake about a span 
and a half long, with one infant rattle at the end of 
his tail. 

We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its 
farther bank were the traces of a very large camp of 
Arapahoes. The ashes of some three hundred fires 
were visible among the scattered trees, together with 
the remains of sweating lodges, and all the other 
appurtenances of a permanent camp. The place, 
however, had been for some months deserted. A few 
miles farther on we found more recent signs of Indians; 
the trail of two or three lodges, which had evidently 
passed the day before, where every foot-print was 
perfectly distinct in the dry, dusty soil. AVe noticed 
in particular the track of one moccasin, upon the sole 
of which its economical proprietor had placed a large 
patch. These signs gave us but little uneasiness, as 
the number of the warriors scarcely exceeded that of 
our own party. At noon we rested under the walls of 
a large fort, built in these solitudes some years since 
by M. St. Vrain.^ It was now abandoned and fast 
falling into ruin. The walls of unbaked bricks were 
cracked from top to bottom. Our horses recoiled in 
terror from the neglected entrance, where the heavy 
gates were. torn from their hinges, and flung down. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 417 

The area within was overgrown with weecls^ and the 
long ranges of apartments, once occupied by the motley 
concourse of traders, Canadians, and squaws, were 
now miserably dilapidated. Twelve miles farther on, 
near the spot where we encamped, were the remains 
of still another fort, standing in melancholy desertion 
and neglect. 

Early on the following morning we made a startling 
discovery. We passed close by a large deserted 
encampment of Arapahoes. There were about fifty 
fires still smouldering on the ground, and it was evi- 
dent from numerous signs that the Indians must 
have left the place within two hours of our reaching 
it. Their trail crossed our own at right angles, and 
led in the direction of a line of hills half a mile on our 
left. There were women and children in the party, 
which would have greatly diminished the danger of 
encountering them. Henry Chatillon examined the 
encampment and the trail with a very professional 
and business-like air. 

^'Supposing we had met them, Henry?" said I. 

"Why," said he, "we hold out our hands to them, 
and give them all we've got; they take away every- 
thing, and then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps," 
added our lion-hearted friend, looking up with a quiet, 
unchanged face, "perhaps we no let them rob us. 
Maybe before they come near, we have a chance to get 
into a ravine, or under the bank of the river; then, 
you know, we fight them." 

About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. 



418 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Here was. a great abundance of wild cherries^ plums, 
gooseberries, and currants. The stream, however, 
like most of the others which we passed, was dried up 
with the heat, and we had to dig holes in the sand to 
find water for ourselves and our horses. Two days 
after, we left the banks of the creek which we had been 
following for some time, and began to cross the high 
dividing ridge which separates the waters of the Platte 
from those of the Arkansas. The scenery was altogether 
changed. In place of the burning plains we w^ere 
passing now through rough and savage glens and 
among hills crowned with a dreary growth of pines. 
We encamped among these solitudes on the night of 
the sixteenth of August. A tempest was threatening. 
The sun went down among volumes of jet-black cloud, 
edged with a bloody red. But in spite of these por- 
tentous signs, we neglected to put up the tent, and 
being extremely fatigued, lay down on the ground 
and fell asleep. The storm broke about midnight, 
and we erected the tent amid darkness and confusion. 
In the morning all was fair again, and ^Pike's Peak, 
white with snow, was towering above the wilderness 
afar off. 

We pushed through an extensive tract of pine 
woods. Large black squirrels were leaping among 
the branches. From the farther edge of this forest 
we saw the prairie again, hollowed out before us into 
a vast basin, and about a mile in front we could dis- 
cern a little black speck moving upon its surface. It 
could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry primed his 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 419 

rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left of the 
animal was a low rocky mound, of which Henry 
availed himself in making his approach. After a 
short time we heard the faint report of the rifle. The 
bull, mortally wounded from a distance of nearly three 
hundred yards, ran wildly round and round in a circle. 
Shaw and I then galloped forward, and passing him 
as he ran, foaming with rage and pain, we discharged 
our pistols into his side. Once or twice he rushed 
furiously upon us, but his strength was rapidly 
exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For one 
instant he glared up at his enemies with burning eyes 
through his black tangled mane, and then rolled over 
on his side. Though gaunt and thin, he was larger 
and heavier than the largest ox. Foam and blood 
flew together from his nostrils as he lay bellowing and 
pawing the ground, tearing up grass and earth with 
his hoofs. His sides rose and fell like a vast pair of 
bellows, the blood spouting up in jets from the bullet- 
holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes became like a 
lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. 
Henry stooped over him, and making an incision 
with his knife, pronounced the meat too rank and 
tough for use; so, disappointed in our hopes of an 
addition to our stock of provisions, we rode away and 
left the carcass to the wolves. 

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like 
a gigantic wall at no great distance on our right. 
" Des sauvagesf des saiivagesf^^ exclaimed Delorier^ 
looking round with a frightened face, and pointing 



420 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with his whip toward the foot of the mountains. In 
fact, we could see at a distance a number of Httle 
black specks, like horsemen in rapid motion. Henry 
Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, galloped toward 
them to reconnoiter, when to our amusement we saw 
the supposed Arapahoes resolved into the black tops 
of some pine trees which grew along a ravine at a 
great distance. The summits of these pines, just 
visible above the verge of the prairie, and seeming to 
move as we ourselves were advancing, looked exactly 
like a line of horsemen. 

We encamped among ravines and hollows, through 
which a little brook was foaming angrily. Before sun- 
rise in the morning the snow-covered mountains were 
beautifully tinged with a delicate rose color, A noble 
spectacle awaited us as we moved forward. Six or 
eight miles on our right, Pike's Peak and his giant 
brethren rose out of the level prairie, as if springing 
from the bed of the ocean. From their summits 
down to the plain below they were involved in a 
mantle of clouds, in restless motion, as if urged by 
strong winds. For one instant some snowy peak, 
towering in awful solitude, would be disclosed to view. 
As the clouds broke along the mountain, we could see 
the dreary forests, the tremendous precipices, the 
white patches of snow, the gulfs and chasms as black 
as night, all revealed for an instant, and then disap- 
pearing from the view. Immediately the stanza of 
Childe Harold occurred to my memory: 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 421 

Morn dawns, and with it stern Albania's hills, 
Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak. 
Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills, 
Array'd in many a dun and purple streak. 
Arise; and, as the clouds along them break, 
'Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer: 
Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak, 
Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear, 
And gathering storms around convulse the closing year. 

Every line save one of this description was more 
than verified here. There were no "dwellings of the 
mountaineer" among these fearful heights. Fierce 
savages, restlessly wandering through summer and 
winter, alone invade them. "Their hand^ is against 
every man, and every man's hand against them.'' 

On the day after, we had left the mountains at some 
distance. A black cloud descended upon them, and 
a tremendous explosion of thunder followed, rever- 
berating among the precipices. In a few moments 
everything grew black and the rain poured down 
like a cataract. We got under an old cotton-wood 
tree which stood by the side of a stream, and waited 
there till the rage of the torrent had passed. 

The clouds opened at the point where they first 
had gathered, and the whole sublime congregation 
of mountains was bathed at once in warm sunshine. 
They seemed more like some luxurious vision of 
Eastern romance than like a reality of that wilderness; 
all were melted together into a soft delicious blue, 
as voluptuous as the sky of Naples- or the transparent 
sea that washes the sunny cliffs of Capri. On the left 



422 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the whole sky was still of an inky blackness; but two 
concentric rainbows stood in brilliant relief against it, 
while far in front the ragged cloud still streamed 
before the wind, and the retreating thunder muttered 
angrily. 

Through that afternoon and the next morning we 
were passing down the banks of the stream called 
La Fontaine qui Bouille, from the boiling spring whose 
waters flow into it. When we stopped at noon, we 
were within six or eight miles of the Pueblo. Setting 
out again, we found by the fresh tracks that a horse- 
man had just been out to reconnoiter us; he had circled 
half round the camp, and then galloped back full 
speed for the Pueblo. What made him so shy of us 
we could not conceive. After an hour's ride we 
reached the edge of a hill, from which a welcome sight 
greeted us. The Arkansas ran along the valley below, 
among woods and groves, and closely nestled in the 
midst of wild cornfields and green meadows where 
cattle were grazing rose the low mud walls of the 
Pueblo. 



CHAPTER XX 

The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 

It came to pass that when he did address 
Himself to quit at length this mountain land, 
Combined, marauders half-way barred egress, 
And wasted far and near with glaive and brand. 

Childe Harold. 

We approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a 
wretched species of fort of most primitive construction^ 
being nothing more than a large square inclosure, 
surrounded by a wall of mud, miserably cracked and 
dilapidated. The slender pickets that surmounted it 
were half broken down, and the gate dangled on its 
wooden hinges so loosely, that to open or shut it 
seemed likely to fling it down altogether. Two or 
three squalid Mexicans, with their broad hats, and 
their vile faces overgrown w^ith hair, w^ere lounging 
about the bank of the river in front of it. They 
disappeared as they saw us approach; and as we rode 
up to the gate a light active little figure came out to 
meet us. It was our old friend Richard. He had come 
from Fort Laramie on a trading expedition to Taos; 
but finding, when he reached the Pueblo, that the 
war would prevent his going farther, he was quietly 
waiting till the conquest of the country should allow 

423 



424 THE OREGON TRAIL 

him to proceed. He seemed to consider himself 
bound to do the honors of the place. Shaking us 
warmly by the hand, he led the way into the area. 

Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing 
together. A few squaws and Spanish women, and a 
few Mexicans, as mean and miserable as the place 
itself, were lazily sauntering about. Richard con- 
ducted us to the state apartment of the Pueblo, a 
small mud room, very neatly finished, considering the 
material, and garnished with a crucifix, a looking- 
glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty horse-pistol. 
There were no chairs, but instead of them a number 
of chests and boxes were ranged about the room. 
There was another room beyond, less sumptuously 
decorated, and here three or four Spanish girls, one of 
them very pretty, were baking cakes at a mud fire- 
place in the corner. One of them brought out a 
poncho, which they spread upon the floor by way of 
tablecloth. A supper, which seemed to us luxurious, 
was soon laid out upon it, and folded buffalo-robes 
were placed around it to receive the guests. Two or 
three Americans, besides ourselves, were present. 
We sat down Turkish fashion,^ and began to inquire 
the news. Richard told us that, about three weeks 
before. General Kearney's army had left Bent's Fort 
to march against Santa Fe;^ that when last heard 
from they were approaching the mountainous defiles 
that led to the city. One of the Americans produced 
a dingy newspaper, containing an account of the 
battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. While 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 425 

we were discussing these matters, the doorway was 
darkened by a tall, slouching fellow, who stood with 
his hands in his pockets taking a leisurely survey of 
the premises before he entered. He wore brown 
homespun pantaloons, much too short for his legs, and 
a pistol and bowie knife stuck in his belt. His head 
and one eye were enveloped in a huge bandage of 
white linen. Having completed his observations, he 
came slouching in and sat down on a chest. Eight or 
ten more of the same stamp followed, and very coolly 
arranging themselves about the room, began to stare 
at the company. Shaw and I looked at each other. 
We were forcibly reminded of the Oregon emigrants, 
though these unwelcome visitors had a certain glitter 
of the eye, and a compression of the lips, which dis- 
tinguished them from our old acquaintances of the 
prairie. They began to catechise us at once, inquiring 
whence we had come, what we meant to do next, and 
what were our future prospects in life. 

The man with the bandaged head had met with an 
untoward accident a few days before. He was going 
down to the river to bring water, and was pushing 
through the young willows which covered the low 
ground, when he came unawares upon a grizzly bear, 
which, having just eaten a buffalo bull, had lain down 
to sleep off the meal. The bear rose on his hind legs, 
and gave the intruder such a blow with his paw that 
he laid his forehead entirely bare, clawed off the front 
of his scalp, and narrowly missed one of his eyes. 
Fortunately he was not in a very pugnacious mood, 



426 THE OREGON TRAIL 

being surfeited with his late meal. The man's com- 
panions, who were close behind, raised a shout and 
the bear walked away, crushing down the willows in 
his leisurely retreat. 

These men belonged to a party of Mormons, who, out 
of a well-grounded fear of the other emigrants, had post- 
poned leaving the settlements until all the rest were 
gone. On account of this delay they did not reach 
Fort Laramie until it was too late to continue their 
journey to California. Hearing that there was good 
land at the head of the Arkansas, they crossed over 
under the guidance of Richard, and were now pre- 
paring to spend the winter at a spot about half a mile 
from the Pueblo. 

When we took leave of Richard, it was near sunset. 
Passing out of the gate, we could look down the little 
valley of the Arkansas; a beautiful scene, and doubly 
so to our eyes, so long accustomed to deserts and 
mountains. Tall woods lined the river, with green 
meadows on either hand; and high bluffs, quietly 
basking in the sunlight, flanked the narrow valley. 
A Mexican on horseback was driving a herd of cattle 
toward the gate, and our little white tent, which the 
men had pitched under a large tree in the meadow, 
made a very pleasing feature in the scene. When we 
reached it, we found that Richard had sent a Mexican 
to bring us an abundant supply of green corn and 
vegetables, and invite us to help ourselves to whatever 
we wished from the fields around the Pueblo. 

The inhabitants were in daily apprehensions of an 



THE PUEBLO AND BENTS FORT 427 

inroad from more formidable consumers than our- 
selves. Every year at the time when the corn begins 
to ripen, the Arapahoes, to the number of several 
thousands, come and encamp around the Pueblo. 
The handful of white men, who are entirely at the 
mercy of this swarm of barbarians, choose to make a 
merit of necessity; they come forward very cordially, 
shake them by the hand, and intimate that the harvest 
is entirely at their disposal. The Arapahoes take 
them at their word, help themselves most liberally, 
and usually turn their horses into the cornfields after- 
ward. They have the foresight, however, to leave 
enough of the crops untouched to serve as an induce- 
ment for planting the fields again for their benefit in 
the next spring. 

The human race in this part of the world is separated 
into three divisions, arranged in the order of their 
merits: white men, Indians, and Mexicans; to the 
latter of whom the honorable title of " whites " is by 
no means conceded. 

In spite of the warm sunset of that evening the next 
morning was a dreary and cheerless one. It rained 
steadily, clouds resting upon the very treetops. We 
crossed the river to visit the Mormon settlement. As 
we passed through the water, several trappers on 
horseback entered it from the other side. Their 
buckskin frocks were soaked through by the rain, and 
clung fast to their limbs with a most clammy and 
uncomfortable look. The water was trickling down 
their faces, and dropping from the ends of their rifles. 



428 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and from the traps which each carried hung at the 
pommel of his saddle. Horses and all, they had a 
most disconsolate and woebegone appearance, which 
we could not help laughing at, forgetting how often 
we ourselves had been in a similar plight. 

After half an hour's riding we saw the white wagons 
of the Mormons drawn up among the trees. Axes 
were sounding, trees were falling, and log-huts going 
up along the edge of the woods and upon the adjoining 
meadow. As we came up the Mormons left their 
work and seated themselves on the timber around us, 
when they began earnestly to discuss points of theol- 
ogy, complain of the ill-usage they had received from 
the "gentiles," and sound a lamentation over the loss 
of their great temple at Nauvoo.^ After remaining 
with them an hour we rode back to our camp, happy 
that the settlements had been delivered from the 
presence of such blind and desperate fanatics. 

On the morning after this we left the Pueblo for 
Bent's Fort. The conduct of Raymond had lately been 
less satisfactory than before, and we had discharged 
him as soon as we arrived at the former place; so that 
the party, ourselves included, was now reduced to four. 
There was some uncertanity as to our future course. 
The trail between Bent's Fort and the settlements, a 
distance computed at six hundred miles, was at this 
time in a dangerous state; for since the passage of 
General Kearney's army, great numbers of hostile 
Indians, chiefly Pawnees and Comanches, had gathered 
about some parts of it. A little after this time they 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 429 

became so numerous and audacious, that scarcely a 
single party, however large, passed between the fort 
and the frontier without some token of their hostility. 
The newspapers of the time sufficiently display this 
state of things. Many men were killed, and great 
numbers of horses and mules carried off. Not long 
since I met with a gentleman, who, during the autumn, 
came from Santa Fe to Bent's Fort, where he found a 
party of seventy men, who thought themselves too 
weak to go down to the settlements alone, and were 
waiting there for a reinforcement. Though this 
excessive timidity fully proves the ignorance and 
credulity of the men, it may also evince the state of 
alarm which prevailed in the country. When we 
were there in the month of August, the danger had not 
become so great. There was nothing very attractive 
in the neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that 
we might wait there half the winter without finding 
any party to go down with us; for Mr. Sublette and 
the others whom we had relied upon had, as Richard 
told us, abeady left Bent's Fort. Thus far on our 
journey fortune had kindly befriended us. We re- 
solved therefore to take advantage of her gracious 
mood and trusting for a continuance of her favors, to 
set out with Henry and Delorier, and run the gauntlet 
of the Indians in the best way we could. 

Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five 
miles below the Pueblo. At noon of the third day we 
arrived within three or four miles of it, pitched our 
tent under a tree, hung our looking-glasses against its 



430 THE OREGON TRAIL 

trunk, and having made our primitive toilet, rode 
toward the fort. We soon came in sight of it, for it 
is visible from a considerable distance, standing with 
its high clay walls in the midst of the scorching plains. 
It seemed as if a swarm of locusts had invaded the 
country. The grass for miles around was cropped 
close by the horses of General Kearney's soldiery. 
When we came to the fort, we found that not only had 
the horses eaten up the grass, but their owners had 
made away with the stores of the little trading post; 
so that we had great difficulty in procuring the few 
■ articles which we required for our homeward journey. 
The army was gone, the life and bustle passed away, 
and the fort was a scene of dull and lazy tranquillity. 
A few invalid officers and soldiers sauntered about the 
area, which was oppressively hot; for the glaring sun 
was reflected down upon it from the high white walls 
around. The proprietors^ were absent, and we were 
received by Mr. Holt, who had been left in charge 
of the fort. He invited us to dinner, where, to our 
admiration, we found a table laid w^ith a white cloth, 
with castors in the center and chairs placed around it. 
This unwonted repast concluded, we rode back to our 
camp. 

Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, 
we saw through the dusk three men approaching from 
the direction of the fort. They rode up and seated 
themselves near us on the ground. The foremost 
was a tall, well-formed man, with a face and manner 
such as inspire confidence at once. He wore a broad 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 431 

hat of felt, slouching and tattered, and the rest of his 
attire consisted of a frock and leggings of buckskin, 
rubbed with the yellow clay found among the moun- 
tains. At the heel of one of his moccasins was buckled 
a huge iron spur, with a roweP five or six inches in 
diameter His horse, who stood quietly looking over 
his head, had a rude Mexican saddle, covered with a 
shaggy bearskin, and furnished with a pair of wooden 
stirrups of most preposterous size. The next man 
was a sprightly, active little fellow, about five feet and 
a quarter high, but very strong and compact. His 
face was swarthy as a Mexican's and covered with a 
close, curly black beard. An old greasy calico hand- 
kerchief was tied round his head, and his close buck- 
skin dress was blackened and polished by grease and 
hard service. The last who came up was a large 
strong man, dressed in the coarse homespun of the 
frontiers, who dragged his long limbs over the ground 
as if he were too lazy for the effort. He had a sleepy 
gray eye, a retreating chin, an open mouth, and a 
protruding upper lip, which gave him an air of exqui- 
site indolence and helplessness. He was armed with 
an old United States yager,- which redoubtable 
weapon, though he could never hit his mark with it, 
he was accustomed to cherish as the very sovereign 
of firearms. 

The first two men belonged to a party who had 
just come from California with a large band of horses, 
which they had disposed of at Bent's Fort. Munroe, 
the taller of the two, was from Iowa. He was an 



432 THE OREGON TRAIL 

excellent fellow, open, warm-hearted, and intelligent. 
Jim Gurney, the short man, was a Boston sailor, who 
had come in a trading vessel to California, and taken 
the fancy to return across the continent. The journey 
had already made him an expert '' mountain-man," 
and he presented the extraordinary phenomenon of a 
sailor who understood how to manage a horse. The 
third of our visitors, named Ellis, was a Missourian, 
who had come out with a party of Oregon emigrants, 
but having got as far as Bridge's Fort, he had fallen 
home-sick, or as Jim averred, love-sick — ^and Ellis 
was just the man to be balked in a love adventure. 
He thought proper to join the California men and 
return homeward in their company. 

They now requested that they might unite with 
our party, and make the journey to the settlements 
in company with us. We readily assented, for we 
liked the appearance of the first two men, and were 
very glad to gain so efficient a reinforcement. We 
told them to meet us on the next evening at a spot on 
the river side, about six miles below the fort. Having 
smoked a pipe together, our new allies left us, and we 
lay down to sleep. 



CHAPTER XXI 

Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 

Ah me ! what evils do environ 

The man that meddles with cold iron. 

Hudibras. 

The next morning, having directed Delorier to 
repair with his cart to the place of meeting, we came 
again to the fort to make some arrangements for the 
journey. After completing these we sat down under 
a sort of porch, to smoke with some Cheyenne Indians 
whom we found there. In a few minutes we saw an 
extraordinary little figure approaching us in a military 
dress. He had a small round countenance, garnished 
about the eyes with the kind of wrinkles commonly 
known as crow 's feet and surrounded by an abundant 
crop of red curls, with a little cap resting on the top 
of them. Altogether, he had the look of a man more 
conversant with mint juleps^ and oyster suppers than 
with the hardships of prairie service. He came up 
to us and entreated that we w^ould take him home to 
the settlements, saying that unless he went with us 
he should have to stay all winter at the fort. We 
liked our petitioner's appearance so little that we 
excused ourselves from complying with his request. 

433 



434 THE OREGON TRAIL 

At this he begged us so hard to take pity on him, 
looked so disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story 
that at last we consented, though not without many 
misgivings. 

The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit *s real 
name proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of our 
French attendants, and Henry Chatillon, after 
various abortive attempts to pronounce it, one day 
coolly christened him Tete Rouge, ^ in honor of his red 
curls. He had at different times been clerk of a 
Mississippi steamboat, and agent in a trading estab- 
lishment at Nauvoo, besides filling various other 
capacities, in all of which he had seen much more 
of "life" than was good for him. In the spring, 
thinking that a summer's campaign would be an 
agreeable recreation, he had joined a company of St. 
Louis volunteers. 

"There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, "me 
and Bill Stephens and John Hopkins. We thought 
we would just go out with the army, and when we had 
conquered the country, we would get discharged 
and take our pay, you know, and go down to Mexico. 
They say there is plenty of fun going on there. Then 
we could go back to New Orleans by way of Vera 
Cruz."2 

But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, 
had reckoned without his host. Fighting Mexicans 
was a less amusing occupation than he had supposed, 
and his pleasure trip was disagreeably interrupted by 
brain fever, which attacked him when about halfway 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 435 



to Bent's Fort. He jolted along through the rest of 
the journey in a baggage wagon. When they came 
to the fort he was taken out and left there, together 
with the rest of the sick. Bent's Fort does not 
supply the best accommodation for an invalid. Tete 
Rouge's sick chamber was a little mud room, where 
he and a companion attacked by the same disease 
were laid together, with nothing but a buffalo robe 
between them and the ground. The assistant sur- 
geon's deputy visited them once a day and brought 
them each a huge dose of calomel/ the only medicine, 
according to his surviving victim, which he was 
acquainted with. 

Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to his 
companion, saw his eyes fixed upon the beams above 
with the glassy stare of a dead man. At this the 
unfortunate volunteer lost his senses outright. In 
spite of the doctor, however, he eventually recovered; 
though between the brain fever and the calomel, his 
mind, originally none of the strongest, was so much 
shaken that it had not quite recovered its balance 
when we came to the fort. In spite of the poor 
fellow 's tragic story, there was something so ludicrous 
in his appearance, and the whimsical contrast between 
his military dress and his most unmilitary demeanor, 
that we could not help smiling at them. We asked 
him if he had a gun. He said they had taken it from 
him during his illness, and he had not seen it since; 
^'but perhaps," he observed, looking at me with a 
beseeching aii^ ''you will lend me one of your big 



436 THE OREGON TRAIL 

pistols if we should meet with any Indians." I next 
inquired if he had a horse, he declared he had a mag- 
nificent one, and at Shaw's request a Mexican led 
him in for inspection. He exhibited the outline of a 
good horse; but his eyes were sunk in the sockets, and 
every one of his ribs could be counted. There were 
certain marks too about his shoulders, which could be 
accounted for by the circumstance, that during Tete 
Rouge's illness, his companions had seized upon the 
insulted charger, and harnessed him to a cannon 
along with the draft horses. To Tete Rouge's 
astonishment we recommended him by all means to 
exchange the horse, if he could, for a mule. Fortu- 
nately the people at the fort were so anxious to get 
rid of him that they were willing to make some sacri- 
fice to effect the object and he succeeded in getting 
a tolerable mule in exchange for the broken-down 
steed. 

A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the 
mule by a cord which he placed in the hands of Tete 
Rouge, who, being somewhat afraid of his new 
acquisition, tried various flatteries and blandishments 
to induce her to come forward. The mule, knowing 
that she was expected to advance, stopped short in 
consequence, and stood fast as a rock, looking straight 
forward with immovable composure. Being stimu- 
lated by a blow from behind she consented to move, 
and walked nearly to the other side of the fort before 
she stopped again. Hearing the by-standers laugh, 
Tete Rouge plucked up spirit and tugged hard at th§ 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 437 

rope. The mule jerked backward, spun herself 
round, and made a dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, 
who clung manfully to the rope, went whisking 
through the air for a few rods, when he let go and 
stood with his mouth open, staring after the mule, 
who galloped away over the prairie. She was soon 
caught and brought back by a Mexican, who mounted 
a horse and went in pursuit of her with his lasso. 

Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie 
traveling, Tete Rouge proceeded to supply himself 
with provisions for the journey, and with this view 
he applied to a quarter-master 's assistant who was in 
the fort. This official had a face as sour as vinegar, 
being in a state of chronic indignation because he had 
been left behind the army. He was as anxious, 
however, as the rest were to get rid of Tete Rouge. 
So, producing a rusty key, he opened a low door 
which led to a half-subterranean apartment, into 
which the two disappeared together. After some 
time they came out again, Tete Rouge greatly embar- 
rassed by a multiplicity of paper parcels containing 
the different articles of his forty days ' rations. They 
were consigned to the care of Delorier, who about 
that time passed by with the cart on his way to 
the appointed place of meeting with Munroe and his 
companions. 

We next urged T^te Rouge to provide himself, if 
he could, with a gun. He accordingly made earnest 
appeals to the charity of various persons in the fort, 
but totally without success, a circumstance which 



438 THE OREGON TRAIL 

did not greatly disturb us, since in the event of a 
skirmish he would be much more apt to do mischief 
to himself or his friends than to the enemy. When 
all these arrangements were completed we saddled our 
horses and were preparing to leave the fort, when 
looking round we discovered that our new associate 
was in fresh trouble. A man was holding the mule 
for him in the middle of the fort, while he tried to put 
the saddle on her back, but she kept stepping side- 
ways 'and moving round and round in a circle until 
he was almost in despair. It required some assistance 
before all his difficulties could be overcome. At 
length he clambered into the black war-saddle on 
which he was to have carried terror into the ranks of 
the Mexicans. 

''Get up," said Tete Rouge; ''come now, go along, 
will you?" 

The mule walked deliberately forward out of the 
gate. Her recent conduct had inspired him with so 
much awe that he never dared to touch her with his 
whip. We trotted forward toward the place of meet- 
ing, but before he had gone far we saw that Tete 
Rouge's mule, who perfectly understood her rider, 
had stopped and was quietly grazing, in spite of his 
protestations, at some distance behind. So getting 
behind him, we drove him and the contumacious 
mule before us, until we could see through the twi- 
light the gleaming of a distant fire. Munroe, Jim, 
and Ellis were lying around it; their saddles, packs, 
and weapons were scattered about and their horses 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 439 

picketed near them. Delorier was there too with 
his little cart. Another fire was soon soaring high 
and scattering against the darkened sky a swarm of 
wandering sparks. We invited our new allies to take 
a cup of coffee with us. When both the others had 
gone over to their side of the camp, Jim Gurney still 
stood by the blaze, puffing hard at his little black 
pipe, as short and weatherbeaten as himself. 

"Well!" he said, "here are eight of us; we'll call it 
six — for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, and that 
new man of yours, won 't count for anything. We '11 
get through well enough, never fear for that, unless 
the Comanches happen to get foul of us." 



CHAPTER XXII 
Indian Alarms 

To all the sensual world proclaim. 

One crowded hour of glorious life 
Were worth an age without a name. 

Old Mortality. 

We began our journey for the frontier settlements 
on the twenty-seventh of August, and certainly a 
more ragamuffin cavalcade never was seen on the 
banks of the Upper Arkansas. Of the large and fine 
horses with which we had left the frontier in the 
spring, not one remained; we had supplied their place 
with the rough breed of the prairie, as hardy as mules 
and almost as ugly; we had also with us a number 
of the latter detestable animals. In spite of their 
strength and hardihood, several of the band were 
already worn down by hard service and hard fare, 
and as none of them were shod, they were fast becom- 
ing foot-sore. Every horse and mule had a cord of 
twisted bull-hide coiled around his neck, which by 
no means added to the beauty of his appearance. 
Our saddles and all our equipments were by this time 
lamentably worn and battered, and our weapons had 
become dull and rusty. The dress of the riders fully 
corresponded with the dilapidated furniture of our 

440 



INDIAN ALARMS 441 

horses, and of the whole party none made a more 
disreputable appearance than my friend and I. Shaw 
had for an upper garment an old red flannel shirt, 
flying open in front and belted around him like a 
frock; while I, in absence of other clothing, was attired 
in a time-worn suit of leather. If our cavalcade 
could have filed through the streets of our native city 
of Boston, it would have created a sensation not 
much in our favor in the breasts of its excellent 
though somewhat precise inhabitants. The charmed 
circle of good society would have been closed against 
us forever. 

Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we 
crept slowly from day to day along the monotonous 
banks of the Arkansas. Tete Rouge gave constant 
trouble, for he could never catch his mule, saddle her, 
or indeed do anything else without assistance. Every 
day he had some new ailment, real or imaginary, to 
complain of. At one moment he would be woe- 
begone and disconsolate, and the next he would be 
visited with a violent flow of spirits, to which he could 
only give vent by incessant laughing, whistling, and 
telling stories. When other resources failed, we used 
to amuse ourselves by tormenting him; a fair com- 
pensation for the trouble he cost us. Tete Rouge 
rather enjoyed being laughed it, for he was an odd 
compound of weakness, eccentricity, and good- 
nature. He made a figure worthy of a painter as he 
paced along before us, perched on the back of his 
mule, and enveloped in a huge buffalo-robe coat, 



442 THE OREGON TRAIL 

which some charitable person had given him at the 
fort. This extraordinary garment, which would have 
contained two men of his size, he chose, for some 
reason best known to himself, to wear inside out, and 
he never took it off, even in the hottest weather. It 
was fluttering all over with seams and tatters, and the 
hide was so old and rotten that it broke out every day 
in a new place. Just at the top of it a large pile of red 
curls was visible, with his little cap set jauntily upon 
one side, to give him a military air. His seat in the 
saddle was no less remarkable than his person and 
equipment. He pressed one leg close against his 
mule's side, and thrust the other out at an angle of 
forty-five degrees. His pantaloons were decorated 
with a military red stripe, of which he was extremely 
vain; but being much too short, the whole length of 
his boots was usually visible below them. His 
blanket, loosely rolled up into a large bundle, dangled 
at the back of his saddle, where he carried it tied with 
a string. Four or five times a day it would fall to 
the ground. Every few minutes he would drop his 
pipe, his knife, his flint and steel, ^ or a piece of tobacco, 
and have to scramble down to pick them up. In 
doing this he would contrive to get in everybody's 
way; and as the most of the party were by no means 
remarkable for a fastidious choice of language, a 
storm of anathemas would be showered upon him, 
half in earnest and half in jest, until Tete Rouge 
would declare that there was no comfort in life, and 
that he never saw such fellows before. 



n 



INDIAN ALARMS 443 

Only a clay or two after leaving Bent's Fort Henry 
Chatillon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along 
with him. After they had been some time absent 
we saw them coming down the hill, driving three 
dragoon-horses, which had escaped from their owners 
on the march, or perhaps had given out and been 
abandoned. One of them was in tolerable condition, 
but the others were much emaciated and severely 
bitten by the wolves. Reduced as they were, we 
carried two of them to the settlements, and Henry 
exchanged the third with the Arapahoes for an excel- 
lent mule. 

On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at 
noon, a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and 
trailed slowly past us in their picturesque procession. 
They belonged to a trader named Magoffin, whose 
brother, with a number of other men, came over and 
sat down around us on the grass. The news they 
brought was not of the most pleasing complexion. 
According to their accounts, the trail below was in a 
very dangerous state. They had repeatedly detected 
Indians prowling at night around their camps; and 
the large party which had left Bent's Fort a few 
weeks previous to our own departure had been 
attacked, and a man named Swan, from Massachu- 
setts, had been killed. His companions had buried 
the body; but when Magoffin found his grave, which 
was near a place called the Caches, the Indians had 
dug up and scalped him, and the wolv-es had shock- 
ingly mangled his remains. As an offset to this intelli- 



444 THE OREGON TRAIL 

gence, they gave us the welcome information that 
the buffalo were numerous at a few days' journey 
below. 

On the next afternoon, as we moved along the 
bank of the river, we saw the white tops of wagons 
on the horizon. It was some hours before we met 
them, when they proved to be a train of clumsy ox- 
wagons, quite different from the rakish vehicles of 
the Santa Fe traders, and loaded with government 
stores for the troops. They all stopped, and the 
drivers gathered around us in a crowd. I thought 
that the whole frontier might have been ransacked 
in vain to furnish men worse fitted to meet the dan- 
gers of the prairie. Many of them were mere boys, 
fresh from the plow, and devoid of knowledge and 
experience. In respect to the state of the trail, they 
confirmed all that the Santa Fe men had told us. 
In passing between the Pawnee Fork and the Caches, 
their sentinels had fired every night at real or imag- 
inary Indians. They said also that Ewing, a young 
Kentuckian in the party that had gone down before 
us, had shot an Indian who was prowling at evening 
about the camp. Some of them advised us to turn 
back, and others to hasten forward as fast as we could ; 
but they all seemed in such a state of feverish anxiety, 
and so little capable of cool judgment, that we 
attached slight weight to what they said. They 
next gave us a more definite piece of intelligence; 
a large village of Arapahoes was encamped on the 
river below. They represented them to be quite 



INDIAN ALARMS 445 

friendly; but some distinction was to be made be- 
tween a party of thirty men, traveling with oxen, 
which are of no value in an Indian's eyes, and a mere 
handful like ourselves, with a tempting band of 
mules and horses. This story of the Arapahoes 
therefore caused us some anxiety. 

Just after leaving the government wagons, as 
Shaw and I were riding along a narrow passage be- 
tween the river bank and a rough hill that pressed 
close upon it, we heard Tete Rouge's voice behind us. 
''Hallo!" he called out; ''I say, stop the cart just for 
a minute, will you?" 

''What's the matter, Tete?" asked Shaw, as he 
came riding up to us with a grin of exultation. He 
had a bottle of molasses in one hand, and a large 
bundle of hides on the saddle before him, containing, 
as he triumphantly informed us, sugar, biscuits, coffee, 
and rice. These supplies he had obtained by a 
stratagem on which he greatly plumed himself, and 
he was extremely vexed and astonished that we did 
not fall in with his views of the matter. He had 
told Coates, the master-wagoner, that the commissary 
at the fort had given him an order for sick-rations 
directed to the master of any government train 
which he might meet upon the road. This order he 
had unfortunately lost, but he hoped that the rations 
would not be refused on that account, as he was 
suffering from coarse fare and needed them very 
much. As soon as he came to camp that night Tete 
Rouge repaired to the box at the back of the cart, 



446 THE OREGON TRAIL 

where Delorier used to keep his culinary apparatus, 
took possession of a saucepan, and after building a 
little fire of his own, set to work preparing a meal 
out of his ill-gotten booty. This done, he seized on 
a tin plate and spoon, and sat down under the cart 
to regale himself. This preliminary repast did not 
at all prejudice his subsequent exertions at supper; 
where, in spite of his miniature dimensions, he made 
a better figure than any of us. Indeed, about this 
time his appetite grew quite voracious. He began 
to thrive wonderfully. His small body visibly ex- 
panded, and his cheeks, which when we first took 
him were rather yellow and cadaverous, now dilated 
in a wonderful manner, and became ruddy in propor- 
tion. Tete Rouge, in short, began to appear like 
another man. 

Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking 
along the edge of the horizon in front, we saw that 
at one point it was faintly marked with pale indenta- 
tions, like the teeth of a saw. The lodges of the 
Arapahoes, rising between us and the sky, caused 
this singular appearance. It wanted still two orthree 
hours of sunset when we came opposite their camp. 
There were full two hundred lodges standing in the 
midst of a grassy meadow at some distance beyond 
the river, while for a mile around and on either bank 
of the Arkansas were scattered some fifteen hundred 
horses and mules grazing together in bands, or wan- 
dering singly about the prairie. The whole were 
visible at once, for the vast expanse was unbroken 



INDIAN ALARMS 447 

l:>y hills, and there was not a tree or a bush to inter- 
cept the view. 

Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in 
watching the horses. No sooner did we see them 
t!ian Tete Rouge begged Delorier stop the cart and 
hand him his little military jacket, which was stowed 
away there. In this he instantly invested himself, 
having for once laid the old buffalo coat aside, as- 
sumed a most martial posture in the saddle, set his cap 
over his left eye with an air of defiance, and earnestly 
entreated that somebody would lend him a gun or a 
pistol only for half an hour. Being called upon to 
explain these remarkable proceedings, Tete Rouge 
observed that he knew from experience what effect 
the presence of a military man in his uniform always 
had upon the mind of an Indian, and he thought the 
Arapahoes ought to know that there was a soldier 
in the party. 

Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas was a 
very different thing from meeting the same Indians 
among their native mountains. There was another 
circumstance in our favor. General Kearney had 
seen them a few weeks before, as he came up the 
river with his army, and renewing his threats of the 
previous year, he told them that if they ever again 
touched the hair of a white man's head he would 
exterminate their nation. This placed them for the 
time in an admirable frame of mind, and the effect 
of his menaces had not yet disappeared. I was 
anxious to see the village and its inhabitants. We 



448 THE OREGON TRAIL 

thought it also our best policy to visit them openly^ as 
if unsuspicious of any hostile design; and Shaw and 
I, with Henry Chatillon, prepared to cross the river. 
The rest of the party meanwhile moved forward as 
fast as they could, in order to get as far as possible 
from our suspicious neighbors before night came on. 

The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred 
miles below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, over 
which a few scanty threads of water are swiftly gliding, 
now and then expanding into wide shallows. At 
several places, during the autumn, the water sinks 
into the sand and disappears altogether. At this 
season, were it not for the numerous quicksands, the 
river might be forded almost anywhere without 
difficulty, though its channel is often a quarter of a 
mile wide. Our horses jumped down the bank, and 
wading through the water, or galloping freely over 
the hard sand-beds, soon reached the other side. 
Here, as we were pushing through the tall grass, we 
saw several Indians not far off; one of them waited 
until we came up, and stood for some moments in 
perfect silence before us, looking at us askance with his 
little snake-like eyes. Henry explained by signs 
what we wanted, and the Indian, gathering his buffalo 
robe about his shoulders, led the way toward the 
village without speaking a word. 

The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and 
its pronunciation so harsh and guttural, that no 
white man, it is said, has ever been able to master it. 
Even Maxwell the trader,^ who has been most among 



INDIAN ALARMS 449 

them, is compelled to resort to the curious sign lan- 
guage common to most of the prairie tribes. With 
this Henry Chatillon was perfectly acquainted. 

Approaching the village, we found the ground all 
around it strewn with great piles of waste buffalo 
meat in incredible quantities. The lodges were 
pitched in a very wide circle. They resembled those 
of the Dahcotahs in everything but cleanliness and 
neatness. Passing between two of them, we entered 
the great circular area of the camp,, and instantly 
hundreds of Indians, men, women, and children, 
came flocking out of their habitations to look at us; 
at the same time, the dogs all around the village set 
up a fearful baying. Our Indian guide walked toward 
the lodge of the chief. Here we dismounted; and 
loosening the trail-ropes from our horses' necks, held 
them securely, and sat down before the entrance, 
with our rifles laid close by our sides. The chief 
came out and shook us by the hand. He was a 
mean-looking fellow, very tall, thin-visaged, and 
sinewy, like the rest of the nation, and with scarcely 
a vestige of clothing. We had not been seated half 
a minute before a multitude of Indians came crowd- 
ing around us from every part of the village, and we 
were shut in by a dense wall of savage faces. Some 
of the Indians crouched around us on the ground; 
others again sat behind them; others, stooping, 
looked over their heads; while many more stood 
crowded behind, stretching themselves upward, 
and peering over each other's shoulders, to get a 



450 THE OREGON TRAIL 

view of us. A hundred pairs of keen glittering eyes 
were riveted upon us. I looked in vain among this 
multitude of faces to discover one manly or generous 
expression; all were wolfish, sinister, and malignant, 
and their complexions, as well as their features, un- 
like those of the Dahcotahs, were exceedingly bad. 
The chief, who sat close to the entrance, called to a 
squaw within the lodge, who soon came out and 
placed a wooden bowl of meat before us. To our 
surprise, however, no pipe was offered. Having 
tasted of the meat as a matter of form, I began to 
open a bundle of presents — ^tobacco, knives, vermilion, 
and other articles which I had brought with me. 
At this there was a grin on every countenance in the 
rapacious crowd; their eyes began to glitter, and long 
thin arms were eagerly stretched toward us on all 
sides to receive the gifts. 

The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, 
which they transmit carefully from father to son. I 
wished to get one of them; and displaying a large 
piece of scarlet cloth, together with some tobacco 
and a knife, I offered them to any one who would 
bring me what I wanted. After some delay a toler- 
able shield was produced. They were very anxious 
to know what we meant to do with it, and Henry 
told them that we going to fight their enemies, the 
Pawnees. This instantly produced a visible impres- 
sion in our favor, which was increased by the distri- 
bution of the presents. Among these was a large 
paper of awls, a gift appropriate to the women; 



INDIAN ALARMS 451 

and as we were anxious to see the beauties of the 
Arapahoe village Henry requested that they might 
be called to receive them. A warrior gave a shout 
as if he were calling a pack of dogs together. The 
squaws, young and old, hags of eighty and girls of 
sixteen, came running with screams and laughter 
out of the lodges; and as the men gave way for them 
they gathered round us and stretched out their 
arms, grinning with delight, their native ugliness 
considerably enhanced by the excitement of the 
moment. 

Mounting our horses, which during the whole 
interview we had held close to us, we prepared to 
leave the Arapahoes. The crowd fell back on each side 
and stood looking on. When we were half across 
the camp an idea occurred to us. The Pawnees 
were probably in the neighborhood of the Caches; 
we might tell the Arapahoes of this and instigate 
them to send down a war party and cut them off, 
while we ourselves could remain behind for a while 
and hunt the buffalo. At first thought this plan of 
setting our enemies to destroy one another seemed to 
US" a masterpiece of policy; but we immediately 
recollected that should we meet the Arapahoe warriors 
on the river below they might prove quite as danger- 
ous as the Pawnees themselves. So rejecting our 
plan as soon as it presented itself, we passed out of 
the village on the farther side. We urged our 
horses rapidly through the tall grass which r-ose to 
their necks. Several Indians were walking through 



452 THE OREGON TRAIL 

it at a distance, their heads just visible above its 
waving surface. It bore a kind of seed as sweet and 
nutritious as oats; and our hungry horses, in spite 
of whip and rein, could not resist the temptation of 
snatching at this unwonted luxury as we passed 
along. When about a mile from the village I turned 
and looked back over the undulating ocean of grass; 
the sun was just set; the western sky was all in a glow, 
and sharply defined against it, on the extreme verge 
of the plain, stood the numerous lodges of the Arapa- 
hoe camp. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it 
for some distance farther, until we discerned through 
the twilight the w^hite covering of our little cart on 
the opposite bank. When we reached it we found 
a considerable number of Indians there before us. 
Four or five of them were seated in a row upon the 
ground, looking like so many half-starved vultures. 
Tete Rouge in his uniform, was holding a close collo- 
quy with another by the side of the cart. His gestic- 
ulations, his attempts at sign-making, and the 
contortions of his countenance, were most ludicrous; 
and finding all these of no avail, he tried to make the 
Indian understand him by repeating English words 
very loudly and distinctly again and again. The 
Indian sat with his eye fixed steadily upon him, and 
in spite of the rigid immobility of his features, it 
was clear at a glance that he perfectly understood 
his military companion's character and thoroughly 
despised him. The exhibition was more amusing 



INDIAN ALARMS 453 

than politic, and Tete Rouge was directed to finish 
what he had to say as soon as possible. Thus re- 
buked, he crept under the cart and sat down there; 
Henry Chatillon stooped to look at him in his retire- 
ment, and remarked in his quiet manner that an 
Indian would kill ten such men and laugh all the time. 

One by one our visitors rose and stalked away. 
As the darkness thickened we were saluted by dis- 
mal sounds, as wild and awful as ever fell upon 
mortal ears. The wolves are incredibly numerous 
in this part of the country, and the offal around the 
Arapahoe camp had drawn such multitudes of them 
together that several hundreds were howling in 
concert in our immediate neighborhood. There was 
an island in the river, or rather an oasis in the midst 
of the sands at about the distance of a gunshot, and 
here they seemed gathered in the greatest numbers. 
A horrible discord of low mournful wailings, mingled 
with ferocious howls, arose from it incessantly for 
several hours after sunset. We could distinctly see 
the wolves running about the prairie within a few 
rods of our fire, or bounding over the sand-beds of 
the river and splashing through the water. There 
was not the slightest danger to be feared from them, 
for they are the greatest cowards on the prairie. 

In respect to the human wolves in our neighbor- 
hood, we felt much less at our ease. We seldom 
erected our tent except in bad weather, and that 
night each man spread his buffalo robe upon the 
ground with his loaded rifle laid at his side or clasped 



454 THE OREGON TRAIL 

in his arms. Our horses were picketed so close around 
us that one of them repeatedly stepped over me as I 
lay. We were not in the habit of placing a guard, 
but every man that night was anxious and watchful; 
there was little sound sleeping in camp, and some one 
of the party was on his feet during the greater part 
of the time. For myself, I lay alternately waking 
and dozing until midnight. Tete Rouge was reposing 
close to the river bank, and about this time, when 
half asleep and half awake, I was conscious that he 
shifted his position and crept on all-fours under the 
cart. Soon after I fell into a sound sleep from which 
I was aroused by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. 
Looking up, I saw Tete Rouge stooping over me with 
his face quite pale and his eyes dilated to their utmost 
expansion. 

''What's the matter?" said I. 

Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river 
bank, something caught his eye which excited his 
suspicions. So creeping under the cart for safety's 
sake he sat there and watched, when he saw two 
Indians, wrapped in white robes, creep up the bank, 
seize upon two horses and lead them off. He looked 
so frightened, and told his story in such a discon- 
nected manner, that I did not believe him, and was 
unwilling to alarm the party. Still it might be true, 
and in that case the matter required instant atten- 
tion. There would be no time for examination, and 
so directing Tete Rouge to show me which way the 
Indians had gone, I took my rifle, and left the camp. 



INDIAN ALARMS 455 

I followed the river back for two or three hundred 
yards, listening and looking anxiously on every side. 
In the dark prairie on the right I could discern 
nothing to excite alarm; and in the dusky bed of the 
river, a wolf was bounding along in a manner which 
no Indian could imitate. I returned to the camp, 
and when within sight of it, saw that the whole party 
was aroused. Shaw called out to me that he had 
counted the horses, and that every one of them was 
in his place. Tete Rouge, being examined as to 
what he had seen, only repeated his former story with 
many asseverations,^ and insisted that two horses 
were certainly carried off. At this Jim Gurney 
declared that he was crazy; Tete Rouge indignantly 
denied the charge, on which Jim appealed to us. 
As we declined to give our judgment on so delicate 
a matter, the dispute grew hot between Tete Rouge 
and his accuser, until he was directed to go to bed 
and not alarm the camp again if he saw the whole 
Arapahoe village coming. Tete Rouge's valor was 
not more conspicuous than his other martial qualities, 
and the story he told us was probably nothing more 
than the product of his imagination, excited no 
doubt by the remnants of fever which still lingered 
upon his brain. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

The Buffalo Camp 

In pastures measureless as air 
The bison is my noble game. 

Bryant. 

No ONE in the camp was more active than Jim 
Gurney, and no one half so lazy as Ellis. Between 
these two there was a great antipathy. Ellis never 
stirred in the morning until he was compelled to, but 
Jim was always on his feet before daybreak; and this 
morning as usual the sound of his voice awakened 
the party. 

''Get up, you booby! up with you now, you're fit 
for nothing but eating and sleeping. Stop your 
grumbling and come out of that buffalo-robe or I'll 
pull it off for you." 

Jim's words were interspersed with numerous 
expletives,^ which gave them great additional effect. 
Ellis drawled out something in a nasal tone from 
among the folds of his buffalo-robe; then slowly 
disengaged himself, rose into sitting posture, stretched 
his long arms, yawned hideously, and finally, raising 
his tall person erect, stood staring round him to all the 
four quarters of the horizon. Delorier's fire was 

456 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 457 

soon blazing, and the horses and mules, loosened from 
their pickets, were feeding in the neighboring meadow. 
When we sat down to breakfast the prairie was still 
in the dusky light of morning; and as the sun rose we 
were mounted and on our way again. 

"A white buffalo!" exclaimed Munroe. 

^'I'll have that fellow," said Shaw, "if I run my 
horse to death after him." 

He threw the cover of his gun to Delorier and 
galloped out upon the prairie. 

"Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop!" called out Henry Chatillon, 
"you'll run down your horse for nothing; it's only a 
white ox." 

But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, who 
had no doubt strayed away from some of the govern- 
ment wagon trains, was standing beneath some low 
hills which bounded the plain in the distance. Not 
far from him a band of veritable buffalo bulls were 
grazing; and startled at Shaw's approach, they all 
broke into a run, and went scrambling up the hillsides 
to gain the high prairie above. One of them in his 
haste and terror involved himself in a fatal catastrophe. 
Along the foot of the hills was a narrow strip of deep 
marshy soil, into which the bull plunged and hope- 
lessly entangled himself. We all rode up to the spot. 
The huge brute was half sunk in the mud, which flowed 
to his very chin, and his shaggy mane was outspread 
upon the surface. As we came near the bull began 
to struggle with convulsive strength; he writhed to 
and fro, and in the energy of his fright and desperation 



458 THE OREGON TRAIL 

would lift himself for a moment half out of the slough, 
while the reluctant mire returned a sucking sound as 
he strained to drag his limbs from its tenacious depths. 
We stimulated his exertions by getting behind him 
and twisting his tail; nothing would do. There was 
clearly no hope for him. After every effort his heav- 
ing sides were more deeply imbedded and the mire 
almost overflowed his nostrils; he lay still at length, 
and looking round at us with a furious eye, seemed to 
resign himself to his fate. Ellis slowly dismounted, 
and deliberately leveling his boasted yager, shot the 
old bull through the heart; then he lazily climbed 
back again to his seat, pluming himself no doubt on 
having actually killed a buffalo. That day the 
invincible yager drew blood for the first and last time 
during the whole journey. 

The morning was a bright and gay one, and the air 
so clear that on the farthest horizon the outline of the 
pale blue prairie was sharply drawn against the sky. 
Shaw felt in the mood for hunting; he rode in advance 
of the party, and before long we saw a file of bulls 
galloping at full speed upon a vast green swell of the 
prairie at some distance in front. Shaw came scour- 
ing along behind them, arrayed in his red shirt, which 
looked very well in the distance; he gained fast on the 
fugitives, and as the foremost bull was disappearing 
behind the summit of the swell, we saw him in the 
act of assailing the hindmost; a smoke sprang from 
the muzzle of his gun, and floated away before the 
wind like a little white cloud; the bull turned upon 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 459 

him, and just then the rising ground concealed them 
both from view. 

We were moving forward until about noon, when 
we stopped by the side of the Arkansas. At that 
moment Shaw appeared riding slowly down the side of 
a distant hill; his horse was tired and jaded, and when 
he threw his saddle upon the ground, I observed that 
the tails of two bulls wxre dangling behind it. No 
sooner were the horses turned loose to feed than Henry, 
asking Munroe to go with him, took his rifle and walked 
([uietly away. Shaw, Tete Rouge, and I sat down 
by the side of the cart to discuss the dinner which 
Delorier placed before us; we had scarcely finished 
when we saw Munroe walking toward us along the 
river bank. Henry, he said, had killed four fat cows, 
and had sent him back for horses to bring in the meat. 
Shaw took a horse for himself and another for Henry, 
and he and Munroe left the camp together. After a 
short absence all three of them came back, their 
horses loaded with the choicest parts of the meat; 
we kept two of the cows for ourselves and gave the 
others to Munroe and his companions. Delorier 
seated himself on the grass before the pile of meat, 
and worked industriously for some time to cut it into 
thin broad sheets for drying. This is no easy matter, 
but Delorier had all the skill of an Indian squaw. 
Long before night cords of raw hide were stretched 
around the camp, and the meat was hung upon them 
to dry in the sunshine and pure air of the prairie. Our 
California companions were less successful at the 



460 THE OREGON TRAIL 

work; but they accomplished it after their own fashion, 
and their side of the camp was soon garnished in the 
same manner as our own. 

We meant to remain at this place long enough to 
prepare provisions for our journey to the frontier, 
which, as we supposed, might occupy about a month. 
Had the distance been twice as great and the party 
ten times as large, the unerring rifle of Henry Chatillon 
would have supplied meat enough for the whole 
within two days; we were obliged to remain, however, 
until it should be dry enough for transportation; so 
we erected our tent and made the other arrangements 
for a permanent camp. The California men, who had 
no such shelter, contented themselves with arranging 
their packs on the grass around their fire. In the 
meantime we had nothing to do but amuse ourselves. 
Our tent was within a rod of the river, if the broad 
sand-beds, with a scanty stream of water coursing 
here and there along their surface, deserve to ' be 
dignified with the name of river. The vast flat plains 
on either side were almost on a level with the sand- 
beds, and they were bounded in the distance by low, 
monotonous hills, parallel to the course of the Arkan- 
sas. All was one expanse of grass; there was no wood 
in view, except some trees and stunted bushes upon 
two islands which rose from amid the wet sands of the 
river. Yet far from being dull and tame, this bound- 
less scene was often a wild and animated one; for 
twice a day, at sunrise and at noon, the buffalo came 
issuing from the hills, slowly advancing in their grave 



■l^ 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 461 

processions to drink at the river. All our amusements 
were to be at their expense. It may be that after 
the fashion of the day, someone of our New England 
reformers may incline to denounce such sport as 
repugnant to his notions of humanity. I need only 
beg him, if he knows how to ride and use a gun, to 
mount a good horse and place himself within sight 
of a band of buffalo. If he has red blood in his veins 
he will inevitably forget his principles and attack 
them no less eagerly than if they were human antago- 
nists who had opposed his measures or called in 
question the truth of his theories; and when he has 
slain his shaggy enemy and has leisure to contemplate 
him, he will take credit to himself for having rid the 
earth of a hideous and brutish monster. Except an 
elephant, I have seen no animal that can surpass a 
buffalo bull in size and strength, and the world may 
be searched in vain to find anything of a more ugly 
and ferocious aspect. At first sight of him every 
feeling of sympathy vanishes; no man who has not 
experienced it can understand with what keen relish 
one inflicts his death wound, with what profound 
contentment of mind he beholds him fall. The cows 
are much smaller and of a gentler appearance, as 
becomes their sex. While in this camp we forebore 
to attack them, leaving to Henry Chatillon, who 
could better judge their fatness and good quality, 
the task of killing such as we wanted to use; but 
against the bulls we waged an unrelenting war. 
Thousands of them might be slaughtered without 



462 THE OREGON TRAIL 

causing any detriment to the species, for their num- 
bers greatly exceed those of the cows; it is the hides 
of the latter alone which are used for the purpose of 
commerce and for making the lodges of the Indians; 
and the destruction among them is therefore altogether 
disproportioned. 

Our horses were tired, and we now usually hunted 
on foot, by the method called '^ approaching." 

The chase on horseback, which goes by the name 
of '^running," is the more violent and dashing mode 
of the two. Indeed, of all American wild sports, 
this is the wildest. Once among the buffalo, the 
hunter, unless long use has made him familiar with 
the situation, dashes forward in utter recklessness 
and self-abandonment. He thinks of nothing, cares 
for nothing but the game; his mind is stimulated to 
the highest pitch, yet intensely concentrated on one 
object. In the midst of the flying herd, where the 
uproar and the dust are thickest, it never wavers 
for a moment; he drops the rein and abandons his 
horse to his furious career; he levels his gun, the 
report sounds faint amid the thunder of the buffalo; 
and when his wounded enemy leaps in vain fury upon 
him, his heart thrills with a feeling like the fierce 
delight of the battlefield. A practiced and skilful 
hunter, well mounted, will sometimes kill five or six 
cows in a single chase, loading his gun again and 
again as his horse rushes through the tumult. An 
exploit like this is quite beyond the capacities of a 
novice. In attacking a small band of buffalo, or in 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 463 

separating a single animal from the herd and assail- 
ing it apart from the rest, there is less excitement 
and less danger. With a bold and well-trained horse 
the hunter may ride so close to the buffalo that as 
they gallop side by side he may reach over and touch 
him with his hand; nor is there much danger in this 
as long as the buffalo's strength and breath continue 
unabated; but when he becomes tired and can no 
longer run at ease, when his tongue lolls out and 
foam flies from his jaws, then the hunter had better 
keep at a more respectful distance; the distressed 
brute may turn upon him at any instant; and at the 
moment when he fires his gun, he will often be attacked 
in a similar manner; the wounded buffalo springs 
at his enemy; the horse leaps violently aside; and then 
the hunter has need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, 
for if he is thrown to the ground there is no hope for 
him. When he sees his attack defeated the buffalo 
resumes his flight, but if the shot be well directed he 
soon stops; for a few moments he stands still, then 
totters and falls heavily upon the prairie. 

The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems 
to me, is that of loading the gun or pistol at full 
gallop. Many hunters for convenience' sake carry 
three or four bullets in the mouth; the powder is 
poured down the muzzle of the piece, the bullet 
dropped in after it, the stock struck hard upon the 
pommel of the saddle, and the work is done. The 
danger of this method is obvious. Should the blow 
on the pommel fail to send the bullet home, or should 



464 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the latter, in the act of aiming, start from its place 
and roll toward the muzzle, the gun would probably 
burst in discharging. Many a shattered hand and 
worse casualties besides have been the result of such 
an accident. To obviate it, some hunters make use 
of a ramrod, usually hung by a string from the neck, 
but this materially increases the difficulty of loading. 
The bows and arrows which the Indians use in run- 
ning buffalo have many advantages over firearms, 
and even white men occasionally employ them. 

The danger of the chase arises not so much from 
the onset of the wounded animal as from the nature 
of the ground which the hunter must ride over. The 
prairie does not always present a smooth, level, and 
uniform surface; very often it is broken with hills 
and hollows, intersected by ravines, and in the re- 
moter parts studded by the stiff wild-sage bushes. 
The most formidable obstructions, however, are the 
burrows of wild animals, wolves, badgers and particu- 
larly prairie dogs, with whose holes the ground for 
a very great extent is frequently honeycombed. In 
the blindness of the chase the hunter rushes over 
it unconscious of danger; his horse, at full career, 
thrusts his leg deep into one of the burro w^s; the bone 
snaps like a pipe-stem, the rider is hurled forward to 
the ground and probably killed. Yet accidents 
in buffalo running happen less frequently than one 
would suppose; in the recklessness of the chase, the 
hunter enjoys all the impunity of a drunken man, 
and may ride in safety over the gullies and declivities 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 465 

where, should he attempt to pass in his sober senses, 
he would infallibly break his neck. 

The method of ^'approaching," has many advan- 
tages over that of "running"; in the former, one 
neither breaks down his horse nor endangers his own 
life; instead of yielding to excitement he must be 
cool, collected, and watchful; he must understand 
the buffalo, observe the features of the country and 
the course of the wind, and be well skilled, moreover, 
in using the rifle. The buffalo are strange animals; 
sometimes they are so stupid and infatuated that a 
man may walk up to them in full sight on the open 
prairie, and even shoot several of their number 
before the rest will think it necessary to retreat. 
Again at another moment they will be so shy and wary, 
that in order to approach them the utmost skill, 
experience, and judgment are necessary. Kit Carson,^ 
I believe, stands pre-eminent in running buffalo; 
in approaching, no man living can bear away the 
palm from Henry Chatillon. 

The rest of the night passed without further alarm. 
The Arapahoes did not attempt mischief, or if they 
did the wakefulness of the party deterred them from 
effecting their purpose. The next day was one of 
activity and excitement, for about ten o'clock the 
man in advance shouted the gladdening cry of 
''Buffalo, buffalo!" and in the hollow of the prairie 
just below us, a band of bulls were grazing. The 
temptation was irresistible, and Shaw and I rode 
down upon them. We were badly mounted on our 



466 THE OREGON TRAIL 

traveling horses, but by hard lashing we overtook 
them, and Shaw running alongside of a bull, shot into 
him both balls of his double-barreled gun. Glancing 
round as I galloped past, I saw the bull in his mortal 
fury rushing again and again upon his antagonist, 
whose horse constantly leaped aside, and avoided 
the onset. My chase was more protracted, but at 
length I ran close to the bull and killed him with my 
pistols. Cutting off the tails of our victims by way 
of trophy, we rejoined the party in about a quarter 
of an hour after we left it. Again and again that 
morning rang out the same welcome cry of " Buffalo, 
buffalo!" Every few moments in the broad meadows 
along the river, we would see bands of bulls, who, 
raising their shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid 
amazement at the approaching horsemen, and then 
breaking into a clumsy gallop, would file off in a 
long line across the trail in front, toward the rising 
prairie on the left. At noon, the whole plain before 
us was alive with thousands of buffalo — bulls, cows, 
and calves — all moving rapidly as we drew near; 
and faroff beyond the river the swelling prairie was 
darkened with them to the very horizon. The party 
was in gayer spirits than ever. We stopped for a 
nooning near a grove of trees by the river-side. 

"Tongues and hump ribs to-morrow," said Shaw, 
looking with contempt at the venison steaks which 
Delorier placed before us. Our meal finished, we lay 
down under a temporary awning to sleep. A shout 
from Henry Chatillon aroused us, and we saw him 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 467 

standing on the cart-wheel stretching his tall figure 
to its full height while he looked toward the prairie 
beyond the river. Following the direction of his 
eyes we could clearly distinguish a large dark object, 
like the black shadow of a cloud, passing rapidly over 
swell after swell of the distant plain; behind it fol- 
lowed another of similar appearance though smaller. 
Its motion was more rapid, and it drew closer and 
closer to the first. It was the hunters of the Arapahoe 
camp pursuing a band of buffalo. Shaw and I hastily 
sought and saddled our best horses, and went plunging 
through sand and water to the farther bank. We 
were too late. The hunters had already mingled 
with the herd, and the work of slaughter was nearly 
over. When we reached the ground we found it 
strewn far and near with numberless black carcasses, 
while the remnants of the herd, scattered in all direc- 
tions, were flying away in terror, and the Indians still 
rushing in pursuit. Many of the hunters, however, 
remained upon the spot, and among the rest was our 
yesterday 's acquaintance, the chief of the village. 
He had alighted by the side of a cow, into which he 
had shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who had 
followed him on horseback to the hunt, was giving 
him a draught of water out of a canteen,^ purchased 
or plundered from some volunteer soldier. Recross- 
ing the river we overtook the party, who w^ere already 
on their way. 

We had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing 
spectacle presented itself. From the river bank on 



468 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the right, away over the swelling prairie on the left, 
and in front as far as we could see, extended one vast 
host of buffalo. The outskirts of the herd were within 
a quarter of a mile. In many parts they were crowded 
so densely together that in the distance their rounded 
backs presented a surface of uniform blackness; but 
elsewhere they were more scattered, and from amid 
the multitude rose little columns of dust where the 
buffalo were rolling on the ground. Here and there 
a great confusion was perceptible, where a battle was 
going forward among the bulls. We could distinctly 
see them rushing against each other, and hear the 
clattering of their horns and their hoarse bellowing 
that rose from far and near. Shaw was riding at 
some distance in advance, with Henry Chatillon; I 
saw him stop and draw the leather covering from his 
gun. Indeed, with such a sight before us, but one 
thing could be thought of. That morning I had used 
pistols in the chase. I had now a mind to try the 
virtue of a gun. Delorier had one, and I rode up to 
the side of the cart, where he sat under the white cov- 
ering, biting his pipe between his teeth and grinning 
with excitement. 

"Lend me your gun, Delorier," said I. 

"Qui, monsieur, oui,^' said Delorier, tugging with 
might and main to stop the mule, which seemed 
obstinately bent on going forward. Then everything 
but his moccasins disappeared as he crawled into the 
cart and pulled at the gun to extricate it. 

^'Is it loaded?" I asked. 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 469 

'^Oui, bien charge; you'll kill, 7non bourgeois; yes, 
you'll kill — c^est un bon fusil.^'^ 

I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 

"Are you ready?" he asked. 

"Come on," said I. 

"Keep down that hollow," said Henry, "and then 
they won't see you till you get close to them." 

The hollow was a kind of ravine very wide and 
shallow; it ran obliquely toward the buffalo, and we 
rode at a canter along the bottom until it became too 
shallow, when we bent close to our horse 's necks, and 
then finding that it could no longer conceal us, came 
out of it and rode directly toward the herd. It was 
within gunshot; before its outskirts, numerous grizzly 
old bulls were scattered, holding guard over their 
females. They glared at us in anger and astonish- 
ment, walked toward us a few yards, and then turning 
slowly round retreated at a trot which afterward 
broke into a clumsy gallop. In an instant the main 
body caught the alarm. The buffalo began to crowd 
away from the point toward which we were approach- 
ing, and a gap was opened in the side of the herd. 
We entered it, still restraining our excited horses. 
Every instant the tumult was thickening. The 
buffalo, pressing together in large bodies, crowded 
away from us on every hand. In front and on either 
side we could see dark columns and masses, half hidden 
by clouds of dust, rushing along in terror and con- 
fusion, and hear the tramp and clattering of ten thou- 
sand hoofs. That countless multitude of powerful 



470 THE OREGON TRAIL 

brutes, ignorant of their own strength, were flying in 
a panic from the approach of two feeble horsemen. 
To remain quiet longer was impossible. 

'Take that band on the left/' said Shaw; 'I'll 
take these in front." 

He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A 
heavy Indian whip was fastened by a band to my 
wrist; I swung it into the air and lashed my horse's 
flank with all the strength of my arm. Away she 
darted, her head stretched forward, her belly stretched 
close to the ground. I could see nothing but a cloud 
of dust before me, but I knew that it concealed a band 
of many hundreds of buffalo. In a moment I was in 
the midst of the cloud, half suffocated by the dust and 
stunned by the trampling of the flying herd; but I 
was drunk with the chase and cared for nothing but 
the buffalo. I laid on the lash without intermission. 
Very soon a long dark mass became visible, looming 
through the dust; then I could distinguish each bulky 
carcass, the hoofs flying out beneath, the short tails 
held rigidly erect. In a moment I was so close that 
I could have touched them with my gun. Suddenly, 
to my utter amazement, the hoofs were jerked upward, 
the tails flourished in the air, and amid a cloud of dust 
the buffalo seemed to sink into the earth before me. 
One vivid impression of that instant remains upon my 
mind. I remember looking down upon the backs of 
several buffalo dimly visible through the dust. We 
had run unawares upon a ravine. At that moment 
I was not the most accurate judge of depth and width^ 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 471 

but when I passed it on my return, I found it about 
twelve feet deep and not quite twice as wide. It was 
impossible to stop; I would have done so gladly if I 
could; so down plunged the little mare, in what 
manner 1 can hardly tell. I believe she came down 
on her knees in the loose sand at the bottom; I was 
pitched forward violently against her neck and nearly 
thrown over her head among the buffalo, who amid 
dust and confusion came tumbling in all around. 
The mare was on her feet in an instant and scrambling 
like a cat up the opposite side. I thought for a 
moment that she would have fallen back and crushed 
me, but with a violent effort she clambered out and 
gained the hard prairie above. Glancing back I saw 
the huge head of a bull clinging as it were by the 
forefeet at the edge of the dusty gulf. At length I 
was fairly among the buffalo. They were less densely 
crowded than before, and I could see nothing but 
bulls, who always run at the rear of a herd. As I 
passed amid them they would lower their heads, and 
turning as they ran, attempt to gore my horse; but 
as they were already at full speed there was no force 
in their onset, and as Pauline ran faster than they, 
they were always thrown behind her in the effort. 
I soon began to distinguish cows amid the throng. 
One just in front of me seemed to my liking, and I 
pushed close to her side. Dropping the reins I fired, 
holding the muzzle of the gun within a foot of her 
shoulder. Quick as lightning she sprang at Pauline; 
the little mare dodged the attack, and I lost sight of 



472 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the wounded animal amid the tumultuous crowd. 
Immediately after I selected another, and urging 
forward Pauline, shot into her both pistols in 
succession. For a while I kept her in view, but in 
attempting to load my gun, lost sight of her also in 
the confusion. Believing her to be mortally wounded 
and unable to keep up with the herd, I checked my 
horse. The crowd rushed thundering onward. The 
dust and tumult passed away, and on the prairie, far 
behind the rest, I saw a solitary buffalo galloping 
heavily. In a moment I and my victim were running 
side by side. My firearms were all empty, and I had 
in my pouch nothing but rifle bullets, too large for 
the pistols and too small for the gun. I loaded the 
latter, however, but as often as I leveled it to fire, 
the little bullets would roll out of the muzzle and the 
gun returned only a faint report like a squib, as the 
powder harmlessly exploded. I galloped in front of 
the buffalo and attempted to turn her back; but her 
eyes glared, her mane bristled, and lowering her head, 
she rushed at me with astonishing fierceness and 
activity. Again and again I rode before her, and 
again and again she repeated her furious charge. 
But little Pauline was in her element. She dodged 
her enemy at every rush, until at length the buffalo 
stood still, exhausted with her own efforts; she 
panted, and her tongue hung lolling from her jaws. 

Riding to a little distance I alighted, thinking to 
gather a handful of dry grass to serve the purpose of 
wadding, and load the gun at my leisure. No sooner 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 473 

were my feet on the ground than the buffalo came 
bounding in such a rage toward me that I jumped 
back again into the saddle with all possible dispatch. 
After waiting a few minutes more, I made an attempt 
to ride up and stab her with my knife; but the experi- 
ment proved such as no wise man would repeat. At 
length, bethinking me of the fringes at the seams of 
my buckskin pantaloons, I jerked off a few of them, 
and reloading the gun, forced them down the barrel 
to keep the bullet in its place; then approaching, I 
shot the wounded buffalo through the heart. Sinking 
to her knees, she rolled over lifeless on the prairie. 
To my astonishment, I found that instead of a fat 
cow I had been slaughtering a stout yearling bull. 
No longer wondering at the fierceness he had shown, 
I opened his throat and cutting out his tongue, tied 
it at the back of my saddle. If the reader is inclined 
to laugh at my mistake, I can assure him that it is 
one which a more experienced eye than mine might 
easily make in the dust and confusion of such a chase. 
Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the 
scene around me. The prairie in front was darkened 
with the retreating multitude, and on the other hand 
the buffalo came filing up in endless unbroken columns 
from the low plains upon the river. The Arkansas 
was three or four miles distant. I turned and moved 
slowly toward it. A long time passed before, far 
down in the distance, 1 distinguished the white cover- 
ing of the cart and the little black specks of horsemen 
before and behind it. Drawing near, I recognized 



474 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Shaw's elegant tunic, the red flannel shirt, conspicu- 
ous from afar. I overtook the party, and asked him 
what success he had met with. He had assailed a 
fat Cow, shot her with two bullets, and mortally 
wounded her. But neither of us were prepared for 
the chase that afternoon, and Shaw, like myself, had 
no spare bullets in his pouch; so he abandoned the 
disabled animal to Henry Chatillon, who followed, 
dispatched her with his rifle, and loaded his horse 
with her meat. 

We encamped close to the river. The night was 
dark, and as we lay down we could hear mingled with 
the howlings of wolves the hoarse bellowing of the 
buffalo, like the ocean beating upon a distant coast. 
There were two Avearied men in the camp that night, 
whose dreamless sleep the thunders of an avalanche 
would not have disturbed. 

The wide flat sand-beds of the Arkansas, as the 
reader will remember, lay close by the side of our camp. 
While we were lying on the grass after dinner, smoking, 
conversing, or laughing at Tete Rouge, one of us 
would look up and observe, far out on the plains be- 
yond the river, certain black objects slowly approach- 
ing. He would inhale a parting whiff from his pipe, 
then rising lazily, take his rifle, which leaned against 
the cart, throw over his shoulder the strap of his pouch 
and powder horn, and with his moccasins in his hand 
walk quietly across the sand toward the opposite side 
of the river. This was very easy; for though the 
sands were about a quarter of a mile wide, the water 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 475 

was nowhere more than two feet deep. The farther 
bank was about four or five feet high and quite per- 
pendicular, being cut away by the water in spring. 
Tall grass grew along its edge. Putting it aside with 
his hand, and cautiously looking through it, the hunter 
can discern the huge shaggy back of the buffalo 
slowly swaying to and fro, as with his clumsy swinging- 
gait he advances toward the water. The buffalo 
have regular paths by which they come down to drink. 
Seeing at a glance along which of these his intended 
victim is moving, the hunter crouches under the bank 
within fifteen or twenty yards, it may be, of the point 
where the path enters the river. Here he sits down 
quietly on the sand. Listening intently, he hears 
the heavy monotonous tread of the approaching bull. 
He sets the hair-trigger of his rifle. The moment 
after he sees a motion among the long weeds and grass 
just at \kiQ spot where the path is channelled through 
the bank. A huge black head is thrust out, the horns 
just visible amid the mass of shaggy and tangled mane. 
Half sliding, half plunging, down comes the buffalo 
upon the river-bed below. He steps out in full sight 
upon the sands. Just before him a runneP of water 
is gliding, and he bends his head to drink. Y"ou may 
hear the water as it gurgles with hollow sound down 
his capacious throat. He raises his head, and the 
drops trickle from his wet beard. He stands with 
an air of stupid abstraction, unconscious of the 
lurking danger. Noiselessly the hunter cocks his 
rifle. As he sits upon the sand, his knee is raised, 



476 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and his elbow rests upon it, that he may level his 
heavy weapon with a steadier aim. The stock is at 
his shoulder; his eye ranges along the barrel. Still he 
is in no haste to fire. Now the bull, with slow delibera- 
tion, begins his march over the sands to the other 
side. He advances his fore-leg, and exposes to view 
a small spot, denuded of hair, just behind the point of 
his shoulder; upon this the hunter brings the sight of 
his rifle to bear; lightly and delicately his finger presses 
upon the hair-trigger. Quick as thought the spiteful 
crack of the rifle responds to his slight touch, and in- 
stantly in the middle of the bare spot appears a small 
red dot. The buffalo shivers; death has overtaken him, 
he cannot tell from whence; still he does not fall, but 
walks heavily forward, as if nothing had happened. 
Yet before he has advanced far out upon the sand, 
you see him stop; he totters; his knees bend under him, 
and his head sinks forward to the ground. Scarcely 
has he done so, when his whole vast bulk sways to 
one side; he rolls over on the sand, and with a scarcely 
perceptible struggle yields up his life. The hunter 
steps forward and looks upon the inanimate pile of 
flesh and bones, hides, tendons, and matted hair. At 
the slightest touch of his fore-finger those gigantic 
limbs were paralyzed, that mountain of flesh reeled 
;and fell prostrate. 

Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting 
them as they come to water, is the easiest and 
laziest method of hunting them. They may also be 
approached by crawling up ravines, or behind hills, 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 477 

or even over the open prairie. This is often surpris- 
ingly easy; but at other times it requires the utmost 
skill of the most experienced hunter. Henry Chatillon 
was a man of extraordinary strength and hardihood; 
but I have seen him return to camp quite exhausted 
with his efforts, his limbs scratched and wounded, 
and his buckskin dress stuck full of the thorns of the 
prickly-pear among which he had been crawling. 
Sometimes he would lie flat upon his face, and drag 
himself along in this position for many rods together. 
On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry 
went out for an afternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained 
in camp until, observing some bulls approaching the 
water upon the other side of the river, we crossed over 
to attack them. They were so near, however, that 
before we could get under cover of the bank our 
appearance as we walked over the sands alarmed 
them. Turning round before coming within gunshot, 
they began to move off to the right in a direction 
parallel to the river. I climbed up the bank and ran 
after them. They were walking swiftly, and before 
I could come within gunshot distance they slowly 
wheeled about and faced toward me. Before they 
had turned far enough to see me I had fallen flat on 
my face. For a moment they stood and stared at 
the strange object upon the grass; then turning away 
again they walked on as before; and I, rising immedi- 
ately, ran once more in pursuit. Again they wheeled 
about, and again • I fell prostrate. Repeating this 
three or four times, I came at length within a hundred 



478 THE OREGON TRAIL 

yards of the fugitives, and as 1 saw them turning 
again I sat down and leveled my rifle. The one in 
the center was the largest 1 had ever seen. I shot 
him behind the shoulder. His two companions ran 
off. He attempted to follow, but soon came to a 
stand, and at length lay down as quietly as an ox 
chewing the cud. Cautiously approaching him, I 
saw by his dull and jelly-like eye that he was dead. 

When I began the chase, the prairie was almost 
tenantless; but a great multitude of buffalo had 
suddenly thronged upon it, and looking up, I saw 
within fifty rods a heavy, dark column stretching to 
the right and left as far as I could see. I walked 
toward them. My approach did not alarm them in 
the least. The column itself consisted entirely of 
cows and calves, but a great many old bulls were 
ranging about the prairie on its flank, and as I drew 
near they faced toward me with such a shaggy and 
ferocious look that I thought it best to proceed no 
farther. Indeed I was already within close rifle-shot 
of the column, and I sat down on the ground to watch 
their movements. Sometimes the whole would stand 
still, their.^heads all facing one way; then they would 
trot forward, as if by a common impulse, their hoofs 
and horns clattering together as they moved. I soon 
began to hear at a distance on the left the short reports 
of a rifle, again j^nd again repeated ; and not long after, 
dull and heavy sounds succeeded, which I recognized 
as the familiar voice of Shaw's double-barreled gun. 
When Henry's rifle was at work there was always 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 479 

meat to be brought in. I went back across the river 
for a horse, and returning, reached the spot where 
the hunters were standing. A dark mass of buffalo 
were visible on the distant prairie. The living had 
retreated from the ground, but about a dozen carcasses 
were scattered in various directions. Henry, knife in 
hand, was stooping over a dead cow, cutting away the 
best and fattest of the meat. 

When Shaw left me he had walked down for some 
distance under the river-bank to find another bull. 
At length he saw the plains covered with a host of 
buffalo, and soon after heard the crack of Henry's 
rifle. Ascending the bank, he crawled through the 
grass, which for a rod or two from the river was very 
high and rank. He had not crawled far before to 
his astonishment he saw Henry standing erect upon 
the prairie, almost surrounded by the buffalo. Henry 
was in his appropriate element. Nelson ^ on the deck 
of the Victory, Bonaparte at the head of his army, 
hardly felt a prouder sense of mastery than he. Quite 
unconscious that any one was looking at him, he stood 
at the full height of his tall, strong figure, one hand 
resting upon his side, and the other arm leaning care- 
lessly on the muzzle of his rifle. His eye was ranging 
over the singular assemblage around him. Now and 
then he would select such a cow as suited him, level 
his rifle, and shoot her dead; then quietly reloading, 
he would resume his former position. The buffalo 
seemed no more to regard his presence than if he were 
one of themselves; the bulls were bellowing and butt- 



480 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ing at each other, or else rolling about in the dust. 
A dozen buffalo would gather about the carcass of a 
dead cow, snuffing at her wounds; and sometimes 
they would come behind those that had not yet fallen, 
arui endeavor to push them from the sjDot. Now and 
then some old bull would face toward Henry with an 
air of stupid amazement, and none seemed inclined to 
attack or fly from him. For some time Shaw lay 
among the grass, looking in surprise at this extraor- | 
dinary sight; at length he crawled cautiously forward, '' 
and spoke in a low voice to Henry, who told him to 
rise and come on. Still the buffalo showed no sign 
of fear; they remained gathered about their dead 
companions. Henry had already killed as many 
cows as we wanted for use, and Shaw, kneeling behind 
one of the carcasses, shot five bulls before the rest 
thought it necessary to disperse. 

The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the buffalo 
seems the more remarkable from the contrast it offers 
to their wildness and wariness at other times. Henry 
knew all their peculiarities; he had studied them as 
a scholar studies his books, and he derived quite as 
much pleasure from the occupation. The buffalo 
were a kind of companions to him, and, as he said, 
he never felt alone when they were about him. He 
took great pride in his skill in hunting. Henry was 
one of the most modest of men; yet, in the simplicity 
and frankness of his character, it was quite clear that 
he looked upon his pre-eminence in this respect as a 
thing too palpable and well established ever to be 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 481 

disputed; whatever may have been his estimate of 
his own skill, it was rather below than above that 
which others placed upon it. The only time that I 
ever saw a shade of scorn darken his face was when 
two volunteer soldiers, who had just killed a buffalo 
for the first time, undertook to instruct him as to the 
best method of ^^approaching." To borrow an illus- 
tration from an opposite side of life, an Eton^ boy 
might as well have sought to enlighten Porson- on 
the formation of a Greek verb, or a Fleet street shop- 
keeper to instruct Beau BrummeP concerning a point 
of etiquette. Henry always seemed to think that he 
had a sort of prescriptive* right to the buffalo, and to 
look upon them as something belonging peculiarly to 
himself. Nothing excited his indignation so much 
as any wanton destruction committed among the cows, 
and in his view shooting a calf was a cardinal sin. 

Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same 
age; that is, about thirty. Henry was twice as large, 
and fully six times as strong as Tete Rouge. Henry's 
face was roughened by winds and storms; Tete Rouge's 
was bloated by sherry cobblers^ and brandy toddy. 
Henry talked of Indians and buffalo; Tete Rouge of 
theaters and oyster-cellars. Henry had led a life of 
hardship and privation; Tete Rouge never had a 
whim which he would not gratify at the first moment 
he was able. Henry, moreover, was the most disinter- 
ested man I ever saw; while Tete Rouge, though 
equally good-natured in his way, cared for nobody 
but himself. Yet we would not have lost him on any 



} 



482 THE OREGON TRAIL 

account; he admirably served the purpose of a jester 
in a feudal castle; our camp would have been lifeless 
without him. For the past week he had fattened in 
a most amazing manner; and indeed this was not at 
all surprising, since his appetite was most inordinate. 
He was eating from morning till night; half the time 
he would be at work cooking some private repast for 
himself; and he paid a visit to the coffee-pot eight or 
ten times a day. His rueful and disconsolate face 
became jovial and rubicund, his eyes stood out like 
a lobster's, and his spirits, which before were sunk 
to the depths of despondency, were now elated in 
proportion; all day he was singing, whistling, laughing, 
and telling stories. Being mortally afraid of Jim 
Gurney, he kept close in the neighborhood of our 
tent. As he had seen an abundance of low dissipated 
life, and had a considerable fund of humor, his anec- 
dotes were extremely amusing, especially since he 
never hesitated to place himself in a ludicrous point 
of view, provided he could raise a laugh by doing so. 
T^te Rouge, however, was sometimes rather trouble- 
some; he had an inveterate habit of pilfering pro- 
visions at all times of the day. He set ridicule at 
utter defiance; and being without a particle of self- 
respect, he would never have given over his tricks, 
even if they had drawn upon him the scorn of the 
whole party. Now and then, indeed, something 
worse than laughter fell to his share; on these occasions 
he would exhibit much contrition, but half an hour 
after we would generally observe him stealing round 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 483 

to the box at the back of the cart and slyly making off 
with the provisions which Delorier had laid by for 
supper. He was very fond of smoking; but having 
no tobacco of his own, we used to provide him with 
as much as he wanted, a small piece at a time. At 
first we gave him half a pound together, but this 
experiment proved an entire failure, for he invariably 
lost not only the tobacco, but the knife intrusted to 
him for cutting it, and a few^ minutes after he would 
come to us with many apologies and beg for more. 

We had been two days at this camp, and some 
of the meat was nearly fit for transportation, when a 
storm came suddenly upon us. About sunset the 
whole sky grew as black as ink, and the long grass at 
the river's edge bent and rose mournfully with the 
first gusts of the approaching hurricane. Munroe 
and his tw^o companions brought their guns and 
placed them under cover of our tent. Having no 
shelter for themselves, they built a fire of driftw^ood 
that might have defied a cataract, and wrapped in 
their buffalo-robes, sat on the ground around it to 
bide the fury of the storm. Delorier ensconced him- 
self under the cover of the cart. Shaw and I, together 
with Henry and Tete Rouge, crowded into the little 
tent; but first of all the dried meat w^as piled together, 
and well protected by buffalo-robes pinned firmly to 
the ground. About nine o'clock the storm broke, 
amid absolute darkness; it blew a gale, and torrents 
of rain roared over the boundless expanse of open 
prairie. Our tent was filled with mist and spray 



484 THE OREGON TRAIL 

beating through the canvas, and saturating every- 
thing within. We could only distinguish each other 
at short intervals by the dazzling flash of lightning, 
which displayed the whole waste around us with its 
momentary glare. We had our fears for the tent; 
but for an hour or two it stood fast, until at length 
the cap gave way before a furious blast; the pole tore 
through the top, and in an instant we were half 
suffocated by the cold and dripping folds of canvas, 
which fell down upon us. Seizing upon our guns, we 
placed them erect, in order to lift the saturated cloth 
above our heads. In this agreeable situation, involved 
among wet blankets and buffalo-robes, we spent 
several hours of the night during which the storm 
would not abate for a moment, but pelted down above 
our heads with merciless fury. Before long the ground 
beneath us became soaked with moisture, and the 
water gathered there in a pool two or three inches 
deep; so that for a considerable part of the night we 
were partially immersed in a cold bath. In spite of 
all this, Tete Rouge's flow of spirits did not desert 
him for an instant; he laughed, whistled, and sung in 
defiance of the storm, and that night he paid off the 
long arrears of ridicule which he owed us. While we 
lay in silence, enduring the infliction with what philos- 
ophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, who was intoxi- 
cated with animal spirits, was cracking jokes at our 
expense by the hour together. At about three o'clock 
in the morning, ^^ preferring the tyranny of the open 
night" to such a wretched shelter, we crawled out 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 485 

from beneath the fallen canvas. The wind had abated, 
but the rain fell steadily. The fire of the California 
men still blazed amid the darkness, and we joined 
them as they sat around it. We made ready some 
hot coffee by way of refreshment; but when some of 
the party sought to replenish their cups, it was found 
that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own share, 
had privately abstracted the coffee-pot and drank up 
the rest of the contents out of the spout. 

In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun 
rose upon the prairie. We presented rather a laugh- 
able appearance, for the cold and clammy buckskin, 
saturated with water, clung fast to our limbs; the 
light wind and warm sunshine soon dried them again, 
and then we were all incased in armor- of intolerable 
rigidity. Roaming all day over the prairie and shoot- 
ing two or three bulls, were scarcely enough to restore 
the stiffened leather to its usual pliancy. 

Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only 
hunters in the party. Munroe this morning made an 
attempt to run a buffalo, but his horse could not come 
up to the game, Shaw went out with him, and being 
better mounted soon found himself in the midst of the 
herd. Seeing nothing but cows and calves around 
him, he checked his horse. An old bull came gallop- 
ing on the open prairie at some distance behind, and 
turning, Shaw rode across his path, leveling his gun 
as he passed, and shooting him through the shoulder 
into the heart. The heavy bullets of Shaw's double- 
barreled gun made wild work wherever they struck. 



486 THE OREGON TRAIL 

A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about 
a few trees that stood on the island just below our 
camp. Throughout the whole of yesterday we had 
noticed an eagle among them; to-day he was still there; 
and Tete Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird 
of America, borrowed Delorier's gun and set out on 
his unpatriotic mission. As might have been expected, 
the eagle suffered no great harm at his hands. He 
soon returned, saying that he could not find him, 
but had shot a buzzard instead. Being required to 
produce the bird in proof of his assertion he said he 
believed that he was not quite dead, but he must be 
hurt, from the swiftness with which he flew ofT. 

"If you want," said Tete Rouge, "I'll go and get 
one of his feathers; I knocked o& plenty of them 
when I shot him." 

Just opposite our camp was another island covered 
with bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water, 
while two or three considerable streams coursed over 
the sand not far off. I was bathing at this place in 
the afternoon when a white wolf, larger than the 
largest Newfoundland dog, ran out from behind the 
point of the island, and galloped leisurely over the 
sand not half a stone's throw distant. I could plainly 
see his red eyes and the bristles about his snout; he 
was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, large head, 
and a most repulsive countenance. Having neither 
rifle to shoot nor stone to pelt him with, I was looking 
eagerly after some missile for his benefit, when the 
report of a gun came from the camp, and the ball 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 487 

threw up the sand just beyond him; at this he gave a 
slight jump, and stretched away so swiftly that he 
soon dwindled into a mere speck on the distant sand- 
beds. The number of carcasses that by this time 
were lying about the prairie all round us summoned 
the wolves from every quarter; the spot where Shaw 
and Henry had hunted together soon became their 
favorite resort, for here about a dozen dead buffalo 
were fermenting under the hot sun. I used often to 
go over the river and watch them at their meal; by 
lying under the bank it was easy to get a full view of 
them. Three different kinds were present; there 
w^ere the white wolves and the gray wolves, both 
extremely large, and besides these the small prairie 
wolves, not much bigger than spaniels. They would 
howl and fight in a crowd around a single carcass, yet 
they were so watchful, and their senses so acute, 
that I never was able to crawl within a fair shooting 
distance; whenever I attempted it, they would all 
scatter at once and glide silently away through the 
tall grass. The air above this spot was always full 
of buzzards or black vultures; whenever the wolves 
left a carcass they would descend upon it, and cover 
it so densely that a rifle-bullet shot at random among 
the gormandizing crowd would generally strike down 
two or three of them. These birds would now be 
sailing by scores just above our camp, their broad 
black wings seeming half transparent as they expanded 
them against the bright sky. The wolves and the 
buzzards thickened about us with every hour, and 



488 THE OREGON TRAIL 

two or three eagles also came into the feast. I killed 
a bull within rifle-shot of the camp; that night the 
wolves made a fearful howling close at hand, and in 
the morning the carcass w^as completely hollowed out 
by these voracious feeders. 

After we had remained four days at this camp we 
prepared to leave it. We had for our own part about 
five hundred pounds of dried meat, and the California 
men had prepared some three hundred more; this 
consisted of the fattest and choicest parts of eight or 
nine cows, a very small quantity only being taken 
from each, and the rest abandoned to the wolves. 
The pack animals were laden, the horses were saddled, 
and the mules harnessed to the cart. Even Tete 
Rouge was ready at last, and slowly moving from 
the ground, we resumed our journey eastward. When 
we had advanced about a mile, Shaw missed a valu- 
able hunting knife and turned back in search of it, 
thinking that he had left it at the camp. He ap- 
proached the place cautiously, fearful that Indians 
might be lurking about, for a deserted camp is 
dangerous to return to. He saw no enemy, but the 
scene was a wild and dreary one; the prairie was 
overshadowed by dull, leaden clouds, for the day was 
dark and lowering. The ashes of the fires were still 
smoking by the river-side; the grass around them 
was trampled down by men and horses, and strewn 
with all the litter of a camp. Our departure had 
been a gathering signal to the birds and beasts of 
prey; Shaw assured me that literally dozens of wolves 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 489 

were prowling about the smouldering fires, while 
multitudes were roaming over the prairie around; 
they all fled as he approached, some running over the 
sand-beds and some over the grassy plains. The 
vultures in great clouds were soaring overhead, and 
the dead bull near the camp was completely blackened 
by the flock that had alighted upon it; they flapped 
their broad wings, and stretched upward their crested 
heads and long skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet 
reluctant to leave their disgusting feast. As he 
searched about the fires he saw the wolves seated on 
the distant hills waiting for his departure. Having 
looked in vain for his knife, he mounted again and 
left the wolves and the vultures to banquet freely 
upon the carrion of the hunting-camp. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

Down the Arkansas 

They quitted not their armor bright, 
Neither by day nor yet by night; 
They lay down to rest 
With corselet laced, 
Pillowed on buckler cold and hard; 
They carved at the meal 
With gloves of steel, 
And they drank the red wine through 
the helmet barred. 

The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 

Last summer the wild and lonely banks of the 
Upper Arkansas beheld for the first time the passage 
of an army. General Kearney, on his march to 
Santa Fe, adopted this route in preference to the old 
trail of the Cimarron.^ When we came down the 
main body of the troops had already passed on; 
Price's^ Missouri regiment, how^ever, was still on the 
way, having left the frontier much later than the rest; 
and about this time we began to meet them moving 
along the trail, one or two companies at a time. No 
men ever embarked upon a military expedition with 
a greater love for the work before them than the 
Missourians; but if discipline and subordination^ be 
the criterion of merit, these soldiers were worthless 

490 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 491 

indeed. Yet when their exploits have rung through 
all America, it would be absurd to deny that they 
were excellent troops. Their victories were gained 
in the teeth of every established precedent of warfare; 
they were owing to a singular combination of military 
qualities in the men themselves. Without discipline 
or a spirit of subordination, they knew how to keep 
their ranks and act as one man. Doniphan's^ 
regiment marched through New Mexico more like a 
band of free companions than like the paid soldiers 
of a modern government. When General Taylor 
complimented Doniphan on his success at Sacramento 
and elsewhere, the colonel 's reply very well illustrates 
the relations which subsisted between the officers 
and men of his command: 

^'I don't know anything of the maneuvers. The 
boys kept coming to me, to let them charge; and 
when I saw a good opportunity, I told them they 
might go. They were off like a shot, and that's all 
I know about it." 

The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to con- 
ciliate the good-will than to command the obedience 
of his men. There were many serving under him, 
who both from character and education could better 
have held command than he. 

At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen 
fought under every possible disadvantage. The 
Mexicans had chosen their own position; they were 
drawn up across the valley that led to their native 
city of Chihuahua; their whole front was covered by 



492 THE OREGON TRAIL 

intrbnchments and defended by batteries of heavy 
cannon; they outnumbered the invaders five io one. 
An eagle flew over the Americans, and a deep murmur 
rose along their lines. The enemy's batteries opened; 
long they remained under fire, but when at length 
the word was given, they shouted and ran forward. 
In one of the divisions, when midway to the enemy, 
a drunken officer ordered a halt; the exasperated 
men hesitated to obey. 

^'Forward, boys, for God's sake!" cried a private 
from the ranks; and the Americans, rushing like tigers 
upon the enemy, bounded over the breastwork. 
Four hundred Mexicans were slain upon the spot and 
the rest fled, scattering over the plain like sheep. 
The standards, cannon, and baggage were taken, and 
among the rest a wagon laden with cords, which the 
Mexicans, in the fulness of their confidence, had 
made ready for tying the American prisoners. 

Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, 
passed up with the main army; but Price's soldiers, 
whom we now met, were men from the same neighbor- 
hood, precisely similar in character, manner, and 
appearance. One forenoon, as we were descending 
upon a very wide meadow, where we meant to rest 
for an hour or two, we saw a dark body of horsemen 
approaching at a distance. In order to find water, 
we were obliged to turn aside to the river bank, a full 
half mile from the trail. Here we put up a kind of 
awning, and spreading buffalo-robes on the ground, 
Shaw and I sat down to smoke beneath it. 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 493 

"We are going to catch it now/' said Shaw; "look 
at those fellows; there'll be no peace for us here." 

And in good truth about half the volunteers had 
straggled away from the line of march, and were 
riding over the meadow toward us. 

"How are you?" said the first who came up, 
alighting from his horse and throwing himself upon 
the ground. The rest followed close, and a score of 
them soon gathered about us, some lying at full 
length and some sitting on horseback. They all 
belonged to a company raised in St. Louis. There 
were some ruffian faces among them, and some 
haggard with debauchery; but on the whole they 
were extremely good-looking men, superior beyond 
measure to the ordinary rank and file of an army. 
Except that they were booted to the knees, they 
wore their belts and military trappings over the 
ordinary dress of citizens. Besides their swords 
and holster pistols, they carried slung from their 
saddles the excellent Springfield carbines/ loaded 
at the breech. They inquired the character of our 
party, and were anxious to know the prospect of 
killing buffalo, and the chance that their horses would 
stand the journey to Sante Fe. All this was well 
enough, but a moment after a worse visitation came 
upon us. 

"How are you, strangers? whar are you going and 
whar are you from?" said a fellow, who came trotting 
up with an old straw hat on his head. He w^as dressed 
in the coarsest brown homespun cloth. His face 



494 THE OREGON TRAIL 

was rather sallow from fever-and-ague, and his tall 
figure, though strong and sinewy, was quite thin, 
and had besides an angular look, which, together 
with his boorish seat on horseback, gave him an 
appearance anything but graceful. Plenty more 
of the same stamp were close behind him. Their 
company was raised in one of the frontier counties, 
and we soon had abundant evidence of their rustic 
breeding; dozens of them came crowding round, 
pushing between our first visitors, and staring at us 
with unabashed faces. 

^' Are you the captain?" asked one fellow. 

'' What's your business out here?" asked another. 

'^Whar do you live when you're at home?" said a 
third. 

"I reckon you're traders," surmised a fourth; and 
to crown the whole, one of them came confidentially 
to my side and inquired in a low voice, ^'What's 
your partner's name?" 

As each newcomer repeated the same questions, 
the nuisance became intolerable. Our military 
visitors were soon disgusted at the concise nature of 
our replies, and we could overhear them muttering 
curses against us, not loud, but deep. While we 
sat smoking, not in the best imaginable humor, Tete 
Rouge's tongue was never idle. He never forgot his 
military character, and during the whole interview 
he was incessantly busy among his fellow-soldiers. 
At length we placed him on the ground before us, and 
told him that he might play the part of spokesman 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 405 

for the whole. Tete Rouge was delighted, and we 
soon had the satisfaction of seeing him talk and 
gabble at such a rate that the torrent of questions 
was in a great measure diverted from us. A little 
while after, to our amazement, we saw a large cannon 
with four horses come lumbering up behind the 
crowd; and the driver, who was perched on one of 
the animals, stretching his neck so as to look over the 
rest of the men, called out: 

"Whar are you from, and w^hat's your business?" 

The captain of one of the companies was among 
our visitors, drawn by the same curiosity that had 
attracted his men. Unless their faces belied them, 
not a few in the crowd might with great advantage 
have changed places with their commander. 

^' Well, men," said he, lazily rising from the ground 
where he had been lounging, ^^it's getting late, I 
reckon we had better be moving." 

^'I shan't start yet anyhow," said one fellow, 
who was lying half asleep with his head resting on 
his arm. 

'^ Don't be in a hurry, captain," added the lieuten- 
ant. 

^'Well, have it your own way, we'll wait a while 
longer," replied the obsequious commander. 

At length, however, our visitors went straggling 
away as they had come, and we, to our great relief, 
were left alone again. 

No one can deny the intrepid bravery of these 
men, their intelligence and the bold frankness of their 



496 THE OREGON TRAIL 

character, free from all that is mean and sordid. 
Yet for the moment the extreme roughness of their 
manners half inclines one to forget their heroic 
qualities. Most of them seem without the least 
perception of delicacy or propriety, though among 
them individuals may be found in whose manners 
there is a plain courtesy, while their features be- 
speak a gallant spirit equal to any enterprise. The 
bravery of the Missourians is not exclusively their 
own, the whole American nation is as fearless as they; 
but in roughness of bearing and fierce impetuosity 
of spirit they may bear away the palm from almost 
any rival. 

No one was more relieved than Delorier by the de- 
parture of the volunteers; for dinner was getting colder 
every moment. He spread a well-whitened buffalo 
hide upon the grass, placed in the middle the juicy 
hump of a fat cow, ranged around it the tin plates 
and cups, and then acquainted us that all was ready. 
Tete Rouge, with his usual alacrity on such occa- 
sions, was the first to take his seat. In his former 
capacity of steamboat clerk, he had learned to prefix 
the honorary Mister to everybody's name, whether 
of high or low degree; so Jim Gurney was Mr. Gurney, 
Henry was Mr. Henry, and even Delorier, for the first 
time in his life, heard himself addressed as Mr. Delorier. 
This did not prevent his conceiving a violent enmity 
against Tete Rouge, who, in his futile though praise- 
worthy attempts to make himself useful, used always 
to intermeddle with cooking the dinners. Delorier's 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 497 

disposition knew no medium between smiles and 
sunshine and a downright tornado of wrath; he said 
nothing to Tete Rouge, but his wrongs rankled in 
his breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at 
dinner; it was his happiest moment; he sat enveloped 
in the old buffalo coat, sleeves turned up in prepara- 
tion for the work, and his short legs crossed on the 
grass before him; he had a cup of coffee by his side 
and his knife ready in his hand, and while he looked 
upon the fat hump ribs, his eyes dilated with antici- 
pation. Delorier sat just opposite to him, and the 
rest of us by this time had taken our seats. 

"How is this, Delorier? You haven't given us 
bread enough." 

At this Delorier's placid face flew instantly into a 
paroxysm of contortions. He grinned with wrath, 
chattered, gesticulated, and hurled forth a volley 
of incoherent words in broken English at the aston- 
ished Tete Rouge. It was just possible to make 
out that he was accusing him of having stolen and 
eaten four large cakes which had been laid by for 
dinner. Tete Rouge, utterly confounded at this 
sudden attack, stared at Delorier for a moment in 
dumb amazement, with mouth and eyes wide open. 
At last he found speech, and protested that the 
accusation was false; and that he could not conceive 
how he had offended Mr. Delorier, or provoked him 
to use such ungentlemanly expressions. The tem- 
pest of words raged with such fury that nothing else 
could be heard. But Tete Rouge, from his greater 



498 THE OREGON TRAIL 

command of English, had a manifest advantage over 
Delorier, who, after sputtering and grimacing for a 
while, found his words quite inadequate to the ex- 
pression of his wTath. He jumped up and vanished, 
jerking out between his teeth one furious sacri enfant 
de grace, a Canadian title of honor, made doubly 
emphatic by being usually applied together with a 
cut of the whip to refractory mules and horses. 

The next morning we saw an old buffalo bull 
escorting his cow with two small calves over the prairie. 
Close behind came four or five large white wolves, 
sneaking stealthily through the long meadow-grass, 
and watching for the moment when one of the child- 
ren should chance to lag behind his parents. The 
old bull kept well on his guard, and faced about now 
and then to keep the prowling ruffians at a distance. 

As we approached our nooning place, we saw five 
or six buffalo standing at the very summit of a tall 
bluff. Trotting forward to the spot where we meant 
to stop, I flung off my saddle and turned my horse 
loose. By making a circuit under cover of some 
rising ground, I reached the foot of the bluff un- 
noticed, and climbed up its steep side. Lying under 
the brow of the declivity, I prepared to fire at the 
buffalo, who stood on the flat surface above, not five 
yards distant. Perhaps I was too hasty, for the 
gleaming rifle-barrel leveled over the edge caught 
their notice; they turned and ran. Close as they 
were, it w^as impossible to kill them when in that 
position, and stepping upon the summit I pursued 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 499 

them over the high arid table-land. It was extremely 
rugged and broken; a great sandy ravine was chan- 
neled through it, with smaller ravines entering on 
each side like tributary streams. The buffalo 
scattered, and I soon lost sight of most of them as 
they scuttled away through the sandy chasms; a 
bull and a cow alone kept in view. For a while they 
ran along the edge of the great ravine, appearing 
and disappearing as they dived into some chasm and 
again emerged from it. At last they stretched out 
upon the broad prairie, a plain nearly flat and almost 
devoid of verdure, for every short grass-blade was 
dried and shriveled by the glaring sun. Now and 
then the old bull would face toward me; whenever 
he did so I fell to the ground and lay motionless. In 
this manner I chased them for about two miles, until 
at length I heard in front a deep hoarse bellowing. A 
moment after a band of about a hundred bulls, 
before hidden by a slight swell of the plain, came at 
once into view. The fugitives ran toward them. 
Instead of mingling with the band, as I expected, 
they passed directly through, and continued their 
flight. At this I gave up the chase, and kneeling 
down, crawled to within gunshot of the bulls, and with 
panting breath and trickling brow sat down on the 
ground to watch them; my presence did not disturb 
them in the least. They were not feeding, for, 
indeed, there was nothing to eat; but they seemed to 
have chosen the parched and scorching desert as the 
scene of their amusements. They were playing 



500 THE OREGON TRAIL 

together, after their clumsy fashion, under the burning 
sun. Some were rolling on the ground amid a cloud 
of dust; others, with a hoarse rumbling bellow, 
were butting their large heads together, while many 
stood motionless, as if quite inanimate. Except 
their monstrous growth of tangled grizzly mane, 
they had no hair; for their old coat had fallen off in 
the spring, and their new one had not as yet appeared. 
Sometimes an old bull would step forward, and 
gaze at me with a grim and stupid countenance; 
then he would turn and butt his next neighbor; then 
he would lie down and roll over in the dirt, kicking 
his hoofs in the air. When satisfied with this amuse- 
ment he would jerk his head and shoulders upward, 
and resting on his forelegs stare at me in this position, 
half blinded by his mane, and his face covered with 
dirt; then up he would spring upon all fours, and 
shake his dusty sides; turning half around, he would 
stand with his beard touching the ground, in an j 
attitude of profound abstraction, as if reflecting on ' 
his puerile^ conduct. ^'You are too ugly to live," 
thought I; and aiming at the ugliest, I shot three of 
them in succession. The rest were not at all dis- 
composed at this; they kept on bellowing and butting I 
and rolling on the ground as before. Henry Chatil- ' 
Ion always cautioned us to keep perfectly c^uiet in 
the presence of a wounded buffalo, for any move- 
ment is apt to excite him to make an attack; so I 
sat still upon the ground, loading and firing with as 
little motion as possible. While I was thus em- 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 501 

ployed, a spectator made his appearance: a little 
antelope came running up with remarkable gentle- 
ness to within fifty yards; and there it stood, its 
slender neck arched, its small horns thrown back, 
and its large dark eyes gazing on me with a look of 
eager curiosity. By the side of the shaggy and 
brutish monsters before me, it seemed like some 
lovely young girl wandering near a den of robbers 
or a nest of bearded pirates. The buffalo looked 
uglier than ever. "Here goes for another of you,'' 
thought I, feeling in my pouch for a percussion-cap. 
Not a percussion-cap was there. My good rifle was 
useless as an old iron bar. One of the wounded bulls 
had not yet fallen, and I waited for some time, 
hoping every moment that his strength would fail 
him. He still stood firm, looking grimly at me, and 
from necessity disregarding Henry's advice I rose 
and walked away. Many of the bulls turned and 
looked at me, but the wounded brute made no attack. 
I soon came upon a deep ravine which would give me 
shelter in case of emergency; so I turned round and 
threw a stone at the bulls. They received it with 
the utmost indifference. Feeling myself insulted 
at their refusal to be frightened, I swung my hat, 
shouted, and made a show of running toward them; 
at this they crowded together and galloped off, 
leaving their dead and w^ounded upon the field. As 
I moved toward the camp I saw the last survivor 
totter and fall dead. My speed in returning was 
wonderfully quickened by the reflection that the 



502 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Pawnees were abroad, and that I was defenseless 
in case of meeting with an enemy. I saw no Hving 
thing, however, except two or three squalid old bulls 
scrambling among the sand-hills that flanked the 
great ravine. When I reached camp the party 
were nearly ready for the afternoon move. 

We encamped that evening at a short distance from 
the river bank. About midnight, as we all lay asleep 
on the ground, the man nearest to me gently reach- 
ing out his hand, touched my shoulder, and cautioned 
me at the same time not to move. It was bright 
starlight. Opening my eyes and slightly turning, 
I saw a large white wolf moving stealthily around the 
embers of our fire, with his nose close to the ground. 
Disengaging my hand from the blanket, I drew the 
cover from my rifle, which lay close at my side; the 
motion alarmed the wolf, and with long leaps he 
bounded out of the camp. Jumping up, I fired 
after him w^hen he was about thirty yards distant; 
the melancholy hum of the bullet sounded far away 
through the night. At the sharp report, so suddenly 
breaking upon the stillness, all the men sprang up. 

'^You've killed him," said one of them. 

"No, I haven't," said I; "there he goes, running 
along the river." 

"Then there's two of them. Don't you see that 
one lying out yonder?" 

We went out to it, and instead of a dead white 
wolf found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had 
missed my mark, and what was worse, had grossly 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 503 

violated a standing law of the prairie. When in a 
dangerous part of the country, it is considered highly 
imprudent to fire a gun after encamping, lest the 
report should reach the ears of the Indians. 

The horses were saddled in the morning, and the 
last man had lighted his pipe at the dying ashes of 
the fire. The beauty of the day enlivened us all. 
Even Ellis felt its influence, and occasionally made 
a remark as we rode along, and Jim Gurney told 
endless stories of his cruisings in the United States 
service. The buffalo were abundant, and at length 
a large band of them went running up the hills on 
the left. 

''Do you see them buffalo?" said Ellis, ''now I'll 
bet any man I'll go and kill one with my yager." 

And leaving his horse to follow on with the party, 
he strode up the hill after them. Henry looked at 
us with his peculiar humorous expression, and pro- 
posed that we should follow Ellis to see how he would 
kill a fat cow. As soon as he was out of sight we 
rode up the hill after him, and waited behind a little 
ridge till we heard the report of the unfailing yager. 
Mounting to the top, we saw Ellis clutching his 
favorite weapon with both hands, and staring after 
the buffalo, who one and all were galloping off at 
full speed. As we descended the hill we saw the 
party straggling along the trail below. When we 
joined them, another scene of amateur hunting 
awaited us. I forgot to say that when we met the 
volunteers Tete Rouge had obtained a horse from 



504 THE OREGON TRAIL 

one of them, in exchange for his mule, whom he 
feared and detested. This horse he christened James. 
James, though not worth so much as the mule, was 
a large and strong animal. Tete Rouge was very 
proud of his new acquisition, and suddenly became 
ambitious to run a buffalo with him. At his request, 
I lent him my pistols, though not without great mis- 
givings, since when Tete Rouge hunted buffalo the 
pursuer was in more danger than the pursued. He 
hung the holsters at his saddle-bow; and now, as we 
passed along, a band of bulls left their grazing in the 
meadow and galloped in a long file across the trail 
in front. 

"Now's your chance, Tete; come, let's see you 
kill a bull." 

Thus urged, the hunter cried, " Get up!" and James, 
obedient to the signal, cantered deliberately forward 
at an abominably uneasy gait. Tete Rouge, as we 
contemplated him from behind, made a most re- 
markable figure. He still wore the old buffalo coat; 
his blanket, which was tied in a loose bundle behind 
his saddle, went jolting from one side to the other, 
and a large tin canteen half full of water, which hung 
from his pommel, was jerked about his leg in a manner 
which greatly embarrassed him. 

"Let out your horse, man; lay on your whip!" we 
called out to him. The buffalo were getting farther 
off at every instant. James, being ambitious to 
mend his pace, tugged hard at the rein, and one of 
his rider's boots escaped from the stirrup. 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 505 

^'Woh! I say, woh!" cried Tete Rouge, in great 
perturbation, and after much effort James' progress 
was arrested. The hunter came trotting back to the 
party, disgusted with buffalo running, and he was 
received with overwhelming congratulations. 

"Too good a chance to lose," said Shaw, pointing 
to another band of bulls on the left. We lashed our 
horses and galloped upon them. Shaw killed one 
with each barrel of his gun. I separated another 
from the herd and shot him. The small bullet of 
the rifle pistol, striking too far back, did not imme- 
diately take effect, and the bull ran on with unabated 
speed. Again and again I snapped the remaining 
pistol at him. I primed it afresh three or four times, 
and each time it missed fire, for the touch-hole was 
clogged up. Returning it to the holster, I began to 
load the empty pistol, still galloping by the side of 
the bull. By this time he was grown desperate. 
The foam flew from his jaws and his tongue lolled out. 
Before the pistol was loaded he sprang upon me, 
and followed up his attack with a furious rush. 
The only alternative was to run away or be killed. 
I took to flight, and the bull, bristling with fury, pur- 
sued me closely. The pistol was soon ready, and 
then looking back, 1 saw his head five or six yards 
behind my horse's tail. To fire at it w^ould be useless, 
for a bullet flattens against the adamantine skull 
of a buffalo bull. Inclining my body to the left, 
I turned my horse in that direction as sharply as his 
speed would permit. The bull, rushing blindly on 



506 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with great force and weight, did not turn so quickly 
As I looked back, his neck and shoulders were ex- 
posed to view; turning in the saddle, I shot a bullet 
through them obliquely into his vitals. He gave 
over the chase and soon fell to the ground. An 
English tourist represents a situation like this as 
one of imminent danger; this is a great mistake; the 
bull never pursues long, and the horse must be 
wretched, indeed, that cannot keep out of his way 
for two or three minutes. 

And now we were come to a part of the country 
where we were bound in common prudence to use 
every possible precaution. We mounted guard at « 
night, each man standing in his turn; and no one ever j 
slept without drawing his rifle close to his side or i 
folding it with him in his blanket. One morning our ' 
vigilance was stimulated by our finding traces of a 
large Comanche encampment. Fortunately for us, 
however, it had been abandoned nearly a wxek. 
On the next evening we found the ashes of a recent 
fire, which gave us at the time some uneasiness. At 
length we reached the Caches, a place of dangerous 
repute; and it had a most dangerous appearance, 
consisting of sand-hills everywhere broken by ravines 
and deep chasms. Here we found the grave of 
Swan, killed at this place, probably by the Pawnees, 
two or three weeks before. His remains, more than 
once violated by the Indians and the wolves, were , 
suffered at length to remain undisturbed in their wild ] 
burial-place. Swan, it was said, was a native of 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 507 

Northampton, in Massachusetts. That day more 
than one execration was launched against the 
debauched and faithless tribe who were the authors 
of his death, and who even now might be following 
like blood-hounds on our trail. 

About this time a change came over the spirit of 
Tete Rouge; his jovial mood disappeared, and he 
relapsed into rueful despondency. Whenever we 
encamped, his complaints began. Sometimes he 
had a pain in the head; sometimes a racking in the 
joints; sometimes an aching in the sideSj and some- 
times a heart-burn. His troubles did not excite 
much emotion, since they rose chiefly no doubt from 
his own greediness, and since no one could tell which 
were real and which were imaginary. He would 
often moan dismally through the whole evening, and 
once in particular I remember he sat bolt upright 
and gave a loud scream. 

^'What's the matter now?" demanded the un- 
sympathizing guard. Tete Rouge, rocking to and 
fro, and pressing his hands against his sides, declared 
that he suffered excruciating torment. 

" 1 wish," said he, 'Hhat I was in the bar-room of 
the St. Charles only just for five minutes!" 

For several days we met detached companies of 
Price's regiment. Horses would often break loose 
at night from their camps. One afternoon we picked 
up three of these stragglers quietly grazing along the 
river. It was nearly dark, and a cold, drizzling rain 
had set in; but we all turned out, and after an hour's 



508 • THE OREGON TRAIL 

chase nine horses were caught and brought in, One 
of them was equipped with saddle and bridle; pistols 
were hanging at the pommel of the saddle, a carbine 
was slung at its side, and a blanket rolled up behind 
it. In the morning, glorying in our valuable prize, 
we resumed our journey, and our cavalcade presented 
a much more imposing appearance than ever before. 
We kept on till the afternoon, when, far behind, three 
horsemen appeared on the horizon. Coming on at a 
hand-gallop, they soon overtook us, and claimed all 
the horses as belonging to themselves and others of 
their company. They were of course given up, very 
much to the mortification of Ellis and Jim Gurney. 

Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and 
we resolved to give them half a day's rest. We 
stopped at noon at a grassy spot by the river. After 
dinner Shaw and Henry went out to hunt; and while 
the men lounged about the camp, I lay down to read 
in the shadow of the cart. Looking up, I saw a bull 
grazing alone on the prairie more than a mile distant. 
I was tired of reading, and taking my rifle I walked 
toward him. As I came near, I crawled upon the 
ground until I approached to within a hundred yards; 
here I sat down upon the grass and waited till he 
should turn himself into a proper position to receive 
his death-wound. He was a grim old veteran. His 
loves and his battles were over for that season, and 
now, gaunt and war-worn, he had withdrawn from 
the herd to graze by himself and recruit his exhausted 
strength. He was miserably emaciated; his mane 






DOWN THE ARKANSAS 509 

was all in tatters; his hide was bare and rough as an 
elephant's, and covered with dried patches of the 
mud in which he had been wallowing. He showed 
all his ribs whenever he moved. He looked like some 
grizzly old ruffian grown gray in blood and violence, 
and scowling on all the world from his misanthropic 
seclusion. The old savage looked up when I first 
approached, and gave me a fierce stare; then he fell 
to grazing again with an air of contemptuous indif- 
ference. The moment after, as if suddenly recollect- 
ing himself, he threw up his head, faced quickly about, 
and to my amazement came at a rapid trot directly 
toward me. I was strongly impelled to get up and 
run, but this would have been very dangerous. 
Sitting quite still, I aimed, as he came on, at the thin 
part of the skull above the nose. After he had passed 
over about three-quarters of the distance between us, 
I was on the point of firing, when, to my great satis- 
faction_, he stopped short. I had full opportunity to 
study his countenance; his whole front was covered 
with a huge mass of coarse matted hair, which hung 
so low that nothing but his two fore feet were visible 
beneath it; his short thick horns were blunted and 
split to the very roots in his various battles, and 
across his nose and forehead were two or three large 
white scars, which gave him a grim and at the same 
time a whimsical appearance. It seemed to me that 
he stood there motionless for a full quarter of an 
hour, looking at me through the tangled locks of his 
mane. For my part, I remained as quiet as he, and 



510 THE OREGON TRAIL 

looked quite as hard; I felt greatly inclined to come 
to terms with him. ^'My friend," thought I, ''if 
you'll let me off, I'll let you off." At length he 
seemed to have abandoned any hostile design. Very 
slowly and deliberately he began to turn about; little 
by little his side came into view, all beplastered with 
mud. It was a tempting sight. I forgot my prudent 
intentions, and fired my rifle; a pistol would have 
served at that distance. Round spun the old bull 
like a top, and away he galloped over the prairie. 
He ran some distance, and even ascended a consider- 
able hill, before he lay down and died. After shoot- 
ing another bull among the hills, I went back to 
camp. 

At noon on the fourteenth of September, a very 
large Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was 
covered with the long files of their white-topped 
wagons, the close black carriages^ in which the traders 
travel and sleep, large droves of animals, and men 
on horseback and on foot. They all stopped on the 
meadow near us. Our diminutive cart and handful 
of men made but an insignificant figure by the side 
of their wide and bustling camp. Tete Rouge went 
over to visit them, and soon came back with half a 
dozen biscuits in one hand and a bottle of brandy in 
the other. I inquired where he got them. •'Oh," 
said T^te Rouge, ''I know some of the traders. Dr. 
Dobbs is there besides." I asked who Dr. Dobbs 
might be. ''One of our St. Louis doctors," replied 
T^te Rouge. For two days past I had been severely 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 511 

attacked by the same disorder which had so greatly 
reduced my strength when at the mountains; at this 
time I was suffering not a little from the sudden pain 
and weakness which it occasioned. Tete Rouge, in 
answer to my inquiries, declared that Dr. Dobbs was 
a physician of the first standing. Without at all 
believing him, I resolved to consult this eminent 
practitioner. Walking over to the camp, I found 
him lying sound asleep under one of the wagons. He 
offered in his own person but an indifferent specimen 
of his skill, for it was five months since I had seen so 
cadaverous a face. His hat had fallen off, and his 
yellow hair was all in disorder; one of his arms sup- 
plied the place of a pillow; his pantaloons were 
wrinkled halfway up to his knees, and he was covered 
with little bits of grass and straw, upon which he had 
rolled in his uneasy slumber. A Mexican stood near, 
and I made him a sign that he should touch the 
doctor. Up spring the learned Dobbs, and, sitting 
upright, rubbed his eyes and looked about him in 
great bewilderment. I regretted the necessity of 
disturbing him, and said I had come to ask professional 
advice. 

''Your system, sir, is in a disordered state," said 
he solemnly, after a short examination. 

I inquired what might be the particular species of 
disorder. 

''Evidently a morbid action of the liver," replied 
the medical man; "I will give you a prescription." 

Repairing to the back of one of the covered wagons, 



512 THE OREGON TRAIL 

he scrambled in; for a moment I could see nothing of 
him but his boots. At length he produced a box 
which he had extracted from some dark recess within, 
and opening it, he presented me with a folded paper 
of some size. "What is it?" said I. "Calomel," 
said the doctor. 

Under the circumstances I would have taken almost 
anything. There was not enough to do me much 
harm, and it might possibly do good; so at camp that 
night I took the poison instead of supper. 

That camp is worthy of notice. The traders 
warned us not to follow the main trail along the river, 
"unless," as one of them observed, "you want to 
have your throats cut!" The river at this place 
makes a bend; and a smaller trail, known as the 
Ridge-path, leads directly across the prairie from point 
to point, a distance of sixty or seventy miles. 

We followed this trail, and after traveling seven or 
eight miles, we came to a small stream, where we 
encamped. Our position was not chosen with much 
forethought or military skill. The water was in a deep 
hollow, with steep, high banks; on the grassy bottom 
of this hollow we picketed our horses, while we our- 
selves encamped upon the barren prairie just above. 
The opportunity was admirable either for driving 
off our horses or attacking us. After dark, as T§te 
Rouge was sitting at supper, we observed him point- 
ing with a face of speechless horror over the shoulder 
of Henry, who was opposite to him. Aloof amid the 
darkness appeared a gigantic black apparition, 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 513 

solemnly swaying to and fro as it advanced steadily 
upon us. Henry, half vexed and half amused, 
jumped up, spread out his arms, and shouted. The 
invader was an old buffalo-bull, who with character- 
istic stupidity, was walking directly into camp. It 
cost some shouting and swinging of hats before we 
could bring him first to a halt and then to a rapid 
retreat. 

That night the moon was full and bright; but as the 
black clouds chased rapidly over it, we were at one 
moment in light and at the next in darkness. As the 
evening advanced, a thunder-storm came up; it 
struck us with such violence that the tent would have 
been blown over if we had not interposed the cart to 
break the force of the wind. At length it subsided to 
a steady rain. My own situation was a pleasant one, 
having taken Dr. Dobb's prescription long before 
there was any appearance of a storm. I now lay in 
the tent wrapped in a buffalo-robe, and in great pain, 
from the combined effect of the disease and the 
remedy. I lay awake through nearly the whole night, 
listening to its dull patter upon the canvas above. 
The moisture, which filled the tent and trickled from 
everything in it, did not add to the comfort of the 
situation. About twelve o'clock Shaw went out to 
stand guard amid the rain and pitch darkness. Mun- 
roe, the most vigilant as well as one of the bravest 
among us, was also on the alert. When about two 
hours had passed, Shaw came silently in, and touching 
Henr}^, called him in a low quick voice to come out. 



514 THE OREGON TRAIL 

''What Is it?" I asked. "Indians, I believe," whis- 
pered Shaw; "but lie still; I'll call you if there's a 
fight." 

He and Henry went out together. I took the 
cover from my rifle, put a fresh percussion cap upon 
it, and then, being in much pain, lay down again. 
In about five minutes Shaw came in again. "All 
right," he said, as he lay down to sleep. Henry was 
now standing guard in his place. He told me in the 
morning the particulars of the alarm. Munroe's 
watchful eye discovered some dark objects down in 
the hollow, among the horses, like men creeping on 
all fours. Lying flat on their faces, he and Shaw 
crawled to the edge of the bank, and were soon con- 
vinced that what they saw were Indians. Shaw 
silently withdrew to call Henry, and they all lay 
watching in the same position. Henry's eye is one 
of the best on the prairie. He detected after a while 
the true nature of the moving objects; they were 
nothing but wolves creeping among the horses. 

It is very singular that when picketed near a camp 
horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. 
The wolves appear to have no other object than that 
of gnawing the trail-ropes of raw-hide by which the 
animals are secured. Several times in the course of 
the journey my horse's trail-rope was bitten in two 
by these nocturnal visitors.' 



CHAPTER XXV 

The Settlements 

And some are in a far countree. 
And some all restlessly at home; 

But never more, ah never, we 
Shall meet to revel and to roam. 

Siege of Corinth. 

The next day was extremely hot, and we rode from 
morning till night without seeing a tree or a bush or a 
drop of water. Our horses and mules suffered much 
more than we, but as sunset approached they pricked 
up their ears and mended their pace. Water was 
not far off. When we came to the descent of the 
broad shallow valley where it lay, an unlooked-for sight 
awaited us. The stream glistened at the bottom, 
and along its banks were pitched a multitude of tents, 
while hundreds of cattle were feeding over the mead- 
ows. Bodies of troops, both horse and foot, and long 
trains of wagons with men, women, and children, 
were moving over the opposite ridge and descending 
the broad declivity in front. These were the Mormon 
battalion in the service of government, together with 
a considerable number of Missouri Volunteers. The 
Mormons were to be paid off in California, and they 
were allowed to bring with them their families and 

515 



516 THE OREGON TRAIL 

property. There was something very striking in the 
half-military, half -patriarchal appearance of these 
armed fanatics, thus on their way with their wives 
and children, to found, it might be, a Mormon empire 
in California. We were much more astonished than 
pleased at the sight before us. In order to find an 
unoccupied camping ground, we were obliged to pass 
a quarter of a mile up the stream, and here we were 
soon beset by a swarm of Mormons and Missourians. 
The United States officer in command of the whole 
came also to visit us, and remained some time at our 
camp. 

In the morning the country was covered with mist. 
We were always early risers, but before we were 
ready the voices of men driving in the cattle sounded 
all around us. As we passed above their camp, we 
saw through the obscurity that the tents were falling 
and the ranks rapidly forming; and mingled with the 
cries of women and children, the rolling of the Mormon 
drums and the clear blast of their trumpets sounded 
through the mist. 

From that time to the journey's end, we met 
almost every day long trains of government wagons, 
laden with stores for the troops and crawling at a 
snail's pace toward Santa Fe. 

Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but 
on a foraging expedition one evening, he achieved 
an adventure more perilous than had yet befallen 
any man in the party. The night after we left the 
Ridge-path we encamped close to the river. At sun- 



I 



THE SETTLEMENTS 517 

set we saw a train of wagons encamping on the trail 
about three miles off; and though we saw them dis- 
tinctly, our little cart, as it afterward proved, entirely 
escaped their view. For some days Tete Rouge had 
been longing eagerly after a dram of whisky. So, 
resolving to improve the present opportunity, he 
mounted his horse James, slung his canteen over his 
shoulder, and set forth in search of his favorite liquor. 
Some hours passed w^ithout his returning. We 
thought that he was lost, or perhaps that some stray 
Indian had snapped him up. While the rest fell 
asleep I remained on guard. Late at night a trem- 
ulous voice saluted me from the darkness, and Tete 
Rouge and James soon became visible, advancing 
toward the camp. Tete Rouge was in much agitation 
and big with some important tidings. Sitting down 
on the shaft of the cart, he told the following story. 
When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how 
late it was. By the time he approached the wagoners 
it was perfectly dark; and as he saw them all* sitting 
around their fires within the circle of wagons, their 
guns laid by their sides, he thought he might as well 
give w^arning of his approach, in order to prevent a 
disagreeable mistake. Raising his voice to the high- 
est pitch, he screamed out in prolonged accents, 
"Camp, ahoy!" This eccentric salutation produced 
anything but the desired result. Hearing such 
hideous sounds proceeding from the outer darkness, 
the wagoners thought that the whole Pawnee nation 
were about to break in and take their scalps. Up 



518 THE OREGON TRAIL 

they sprang staring with terror. Each man snatched 
his gun; some stood behind the wagons; some threw 
themselves flat on the ground, and in an instant 
twenty cocked muskets were leveled full at the horri- 
fied Tete Rouge, who just then began to be visible 
through the darkness. 

"Thar they come/' cried the master wagoner, 
"fire, 'fire! shoot that feller." 

"No, no!" screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of 
fright; "don't fire, don't! I'm a friend, I'm an 
American citizen!" 

" You're a friend, be you?" cried a gruff voice from 
the wagons, "then what are you yelling out thar for, 
like a wild Injun? Come along up here if you're a 
man." 

"Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the 
master wagoner, "maybe he's a decoy, like." 

T^te Rouge in utter bewilderment made his 
approach, with the gaping muzzles of the muskets still 
before his eyes. He succeeded at last in explaining 
his character and situation, and the Missourians 
admitted him into camp. He got no whisky; 
but as he represented himself as a great invalid, and 
suffering much from coarse fare, they made up a 
contribution for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from 
their own rations. 

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more 
related this edifying story. We hardly knew how 
much of it to believe, though after some cross-ques- 
tioning we failed to discover any flaw in the narrative. 



THE SETTLEMENTS 519 

Passing by the wagoners' camp, they confirmed 
T^te Rouge's account in every particular. 

''I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," said 
one • of them, " for the biggest heap of money in 
Missouri." 

To T^te Rouge's great wrath they expressed a 
firm conviction that he was crazy. We left them 
after giving them the advice not to trouble them- 
selves about war-whoops in future, since they would 
be apt to feel an Indian's arrow before they heard 
his voice. 

A day or two after, we had an adventure of another 
sort with a party of wagoners. Henry and I rode 
forward to hunt. After that day there was no proba- 
bility that we should meet with buffalo, and we were 
anxious to kill one for the sake of fresh meat. They 
were so wild that we hunted all the morning in vain, 
but at noon as we approached Cow Creek we saw a 
large band feeding near its margin. Cow Creek is 
densely lined with trees which intercept the view 
beyond, and it runs, as we afterward found, at the 
bottom of a deep trench. We approached by riding 
along the bottom of a ravine. When we were near 
enough, I held the horses while Henry crept toward 
the buffalo. I saw him take his seat within shooting 
distance, prepare his rifle, and look about to select 
his victim. The death of a fat cow was certain, when 
suddenly a great smoke arose from the bed of the 
creek with a rattling volley of musketry. A score of 
long-legged Missourians leaped out from among the 



520 THE OREGON TRAIL 

trees and ran after the buffalo, who one and all took 
to their heels and vanished. These fellows had 
crawled up the bed of the creek to within a hundred 
yards of the buffalo. Never was there a fairer chance 
for a shot. They were good marksmen; all cracked 
away at once, and yet not a buffalo fell. In fact the 
animal is so tenacious of life that it requires no little 
knowledge of anatomy to kill it, and it is very seldom 
that a novice succeeds in his first attempt at approach- 
ing. The balked Missourians were excessively mor- 
tified, especially when Henry told them that if they 
had kept quiet he would have killed meat enough in 
ten minutes to feed their whole party. Our friends, 
who were at no great distance, hearing such a for- 
midable fusillade,^ thought the Indians had fired the 
valley for our benefit. Shaw came galloping on to 
reconnoiter and learn if we were yet in the land of 
the living. 

At Cow Creek we found the very welcome novelty 
of ripe grapes and plums, which grew there in abun- 
dance. At the Little Arkansas, not much farther on, 
we saw the last buffalo, a miserable old bull, roaming 
over the prairie alone and melancholy. 

From this time forward the character of the country 
was changing every day. We had left behind us the 
great arid deserts, meagerly covered by the tufted 
buffalo grass, with its pale green hue, and its short 
shriveled blades. The plains before us were carpeted 
with rich and verdant herbage sprinkled with flowers. 
In place of buffalo we found plenty of prairie hens, and 



THE SETTLEMENTS 521 

we bagged them by dozens without leaving the trail. 
In three or four days we saw before us the broad 
woods and the emerald meadows of Council Grove, 
a scene of striking luxuriance and beauty. It seemed 
like a new sensation as we rode beneath the resounding 
arches of these noble woods. Trees so majestic I 
thought I had never seen before; they were of ash, 
oak, elm, maple, and hickory, their mighty limbs 
deeply overshadowing the path, while enormous grape 
vines were entwined among them, purple with fruit. 
The shouts of our scattered party, and now and then 
a report of a rifle, rang amid the breathing stillness 
of the forest. We rode forth again with regret into 
the broad light of the open prairie. Little more than 
a hundred miles now separated us from the frontier 
settlements. The whole intervening country was a 
succession of verdant prairies, rising in broad swells 
and relieved by trees clustering like an oasis around 
some spring, or following the course of a stream along 
some fertile hollow. These are the prairies of the 
poet and novelist. We had left danger behind us. 
Nothing was to be feared from the Indians of this 
region, the Sacs and Foxes, the Kansas and the 
Osages. We had met with signal good fortune. 
Although for five months we had been traveling with 
an insufficient force through a country where we were 
at any moment liable to depredation, not a single 
animal had been stolen from us, and our only loss had 
been one old mule bitten to death by a rattlesnake. 
Three weeks after we reached the frontier the Pawnees 



522 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and the Comanches began a regular series of hostilities 
on the Arkansas trail, killing men and driving off 
horses. They attacked, without exception, every 
party, large or small, that passed during the next six 
months. 

Diamond Spring, Rock Creek, Elder Grove, and a 
dozen camping places besides, were passed all in 
quick succession. At Rock Creek we found a train 
of government provision wagons, under the charge 
of an emaciated old man in his seventy-first year. 
Some restless American devil had driven him into 
the wilderness at a time when he should have been 
seated at his fireside with his grandchildren on his 
knees. I am convinced that he never returned; he 
was complaining that night of a disease, the wasting 
effects of which upon a younger and stronger man I 
myself had proved from severe experience. Long 
ere this no doubt the wolves have howled their 
moonlight carnival over the old man's attenuated 
remains. 

Not long after we came to a small trail leading to 
Fort Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. 
Tete Rouge here took leave of us. He was anxious 
to go to the fort in order to receive payment for his 
valuable military services. So he and his horse 
James, after bidding an affectionate farewell, set out 
together, taking with them as much provision as they 
could conveniently carry, including a large quantity 
of brown sugar. On a cheerless rainy evening we 
came to our last encamping ground. A dozen pigs 



THE SETTLEMENTS 523 

belonging to a Shawanoe farmer were grunting and 
rooting at the edge of the grove. 

''I wonder how fresh pork tastes/' murmured one 
of the party, and more than one voice murmured in 
response. The fiat went forth: ^'That pig must die," 
and a rifle was leveled forthwith at the countenance 
of the plumpest porker. Just then a wagon train, 
with some twenty Missourians, came out from among 
the trees. The marksman suspended his aim, deem- 
ing it inexpedient under the circumstances to con- 
summate the deed of blood. The reader should have 
seen us at our camp in the grove that night, every 
man standing before the tree on which he had hung 
his little looking-glass and grimacing horribly as he 
struggled to remove with a dull razor the stubble of 
a month's beard. 

In the morning we made our toilet as well as circum- 
stances would permit, and that is saying but very little. 
In spite of the dreary rain of yesterday, there never 
was a brighter and gayer autumnal morning than that 
on which we returned to the settlements. We were 
passing through the • country of the half-civilized 
Shawanoes. It was a beautiful alternation of fertile 
plains and groves, whose foliage was just tinged with 
the hues of autumn, wdiile close beneath them rested 
the neat log-houses of the Indian farmers. Every 
field and meadow bespoke the exuberant fertility of 
the soil. The maize stood rustling in the wind, 
matured and dry, its shining yellow ears thrust out 
between the gaping husks. Squashes and enormous 



524 THE OREGON TRAIL 

yellow pumpkins lay basking in the sun in the midst 
of their brown and shriveled leaves. Robins and 
blackbirds flew about the fences; and everything, in 
short, betokened our near approach to home and 
civilization. The swelling outline of the mighty 
forests that border on the Missouri soon rose before 
us, and we entered the wide tract of shrubbery which 
forms their outskirts. We had passed the same road 
on our outward journey in the spring, but its aspect 
was totally changed. The young wild apple-trees, 
then flushed with their fragrant blossoms, were now 
hung thickly with ruddy fruit. Tall rank grass 
flourished by the roadside in place of the tender 
shoots just peeping from the warm and oozy soil. 
The vines were laden with dark purple grapes, and 
the slender twigs of the maple, then tasseled with 
their clusters of small red flowers, now hung out a 
gorgeous display of leaves stained by the frost with 
burning crimson. On every side we saw the tokens 
of maturity and decay where all had before been 
fresh and beautiful as the cheek of a young girl. We 
entered the forest, and ourselves and our horses were 
checkered, as we passed along, by the bright spots of 
sunlight that fell between the opening boughs above. 
On either side the dark rich masses of foliage almost 
excluded the sun, though here and there its rays 
could find their way down, striking through the broad 
leaves and lighting them with a pure transparent 
green. Squirrels barked at us from the trees; coveys 
of young partridges ran rustling over the leaves 



THE SETTLEMENTS 525 

below, and the golden oriole, the blue jay, and the 
flaming red-bird darted among the shadowy branches. 
We hailed these sights and sounds of beauty by no 
means with an unmingled pleasure. Many and power- 
ful as were the attractions which drew us toward the 
settlements, we looked back even at that moment 
with an eager longing toward the wilderness of prairies 
and mountains behind us. For myself I had suffered 
more that summer from illness than ever before in 
my life, and yet to this hour I cannot recall those 
savage scenes and savage men without a strong 
desire again to visit them. 

At length, for the first time during about half a 
year, we saw the roof of a white man's dwelling 
between the opening trees. A few moments after 
we were riding over the miserable log-bridge that 
leads into the center of Westport. Westport had 
beheld strange scenes, but a rougher looking troop 
than ours, with our worn equipments and broken- 
down horses, was never seen even there. We passed 
the well-remembered tavern, Boone 's grocery, and 
old Vogel's dram shop, and encamped on a meadow 
beyond. Here we were soon visited by a number of 
people who came to purchase our horses and equipage. 
This matter disposed of, we hired a wagon and drove 
on to Kansas Landing.^ Here we were again received 
under the hospitable roof of our old friend Colonel 
Chick, and seated under his porch we looked down 
once more on the wild eddies of the Missouri. 

Delorier made his appearance in the morning, 



526 THE OREGON TRAIL 

strangely transformed by the assistance of a hat, a 
coat, and a razor. His little log-house was among 
the woods not far off. It seemed he had meditated 
giving a ball on the occasion of his return, and had 
consulted Henry Chatillon as to whether it would do 
to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed his entire 
conviction that we would not take it amiss, and the 
invitation was now proffered accordingly, Delorier 
adding as a special inducement that Antoine Lajeunesse 
was to play the fiddle. We told him we would cer- 
tainly come, but before the evening arrived a steam- 
boat, which came down from Fort Leavenworth, 
prevented our being present at the expected festivities. 
Delorier was on the rock at the landing place, waiting 
to take leave of us. 

^^ Adieu! mes bourgeois; adieu! adieu!'^ he cried out 
as the boat put off; "when you go another time to 
de Rocky Montagues I will go with you; yes, I will 
go!" 

He accompanied this patronizing assurance by 
jumping about, swinging his hat, and grinning from 
ear to ear. As the boat rounded a distant point, the 
last object that met our eyes was Delorier still lifting 
his hat and skipping like a monkey about the rock. 
We had taken leave of Munroe and Jim Gurney at 
Westport, and Henry Chatillon went down in the 
boat with us. 

The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, 
during about a third of which time we were fast 
aground on sand-bars. We passed the steamei: 



THE SETTLEMENTS 527 

Amelia crowded with a roaring crew of disbanded 
volunteers, swearing, drinking, gambling, and fighting. 
At length one evening we reached the crowded levee 
of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters' House, ^ we 
caused diligent search to be made for our trunks, 
which after some time were discovered stowed away 
in the farthest corner of the storeroom. In the 
morning we hardly recognized each other; a frock of 
broadcloth had supplanted the frock of buck-skin; 
well-fitted pantaloons took the place of the Indian 
leggings, and polished boots were substituted for the 
gaudy moccasins. 

After we had been several ^ days at St. Louis we 
heard news of Tete Rouge. He had contrived to 
reach Fort Leavenworth, where he had found the 
paymaster and received his money. As a boat was 
just ready to start for St. Louis, he went on board 
and engaged his passage. This done, he immediately 
got drunk on shore, and the boat went off without him. 
It was some days before another opportunity occurred, 
and meanwhile the sutler's stores furnished him with 
abundant means of keeping up his spirits. Another 
steamboat came at last, the clerk of which happened 
to be a friend of his, and by the advice of some chari- 
table person on shore he persuaded Tete Rouge to 
remain on board, intending to detain him there until 
the boat should leave the fort. At first Tete Rouge 
was well contented with this arrangement, but on 
applying for a dram, the bar-keeper, at the clerk's 
instigation, refused to let him have it. Finding them 



528 THE OREGON TRAIL 

both inflexible in spite of his entreaties, he became 
desperate and made his escape from the boat. The 
clerk found him after a long search in one of the 
barracks; a circle of dragoons stood contemplating 
him as he lay on the floor, maudlin drunk and crying 
dismally. With the help of one of them the clerk 
pushed him on board, and our informant, who came 
down in the same boat, declares that he remained in 
great despondency during the whole passage. As 
we left St. Louis soon after his arrival, we did not see 
the worthless, good-natured little vagabond again. 

On the evening before our departure Henry Cha- 
tillon came to our rooms at the Planters' House to 
take leave of us. No one who met him in the streets 
of St. Louis would have taken him for a hunter fresh 
from the Rocky Mountains. He was very neatly 
and simply dressed in a suit of dark cloth; for although 
since his sixteenth year, he had scarcely been for a 
month together among the abodes of men, he had a 
native good taste and a sense of propriety which 
always led him to pay great attention to his personal 
appearance. His tall athletic figure, with its easy 
flexible motions, appeared to advantage in his present 
dress; and his fine face, though roughened by a thou- 
sand storms, was not at all out of keeping with it. 
We took leave of him with much regret; and unless 
his changing features, as he shook us by the hand, 
belied him, the feeling on his part was no less than 
on ours. Shaw had given him a horse at Westport. 
My good rifle, which he had always been fond of using, 



THE SETTLEMENTS 529 

as it was an excellent piece, much better than his 
own, is now in his hands, and perhaps at this moment 
its sharp voice is startling the echoes of the Rocky 
Mountains. On the next morning we left town, and 
after a fortnight of railroads and steamboats^ we 
saw once more the familiar dome of the Boston State 
House. 

I cannot take leave of the reader without adding 
a word of the true-hearted hunter who had served us 
throughout with such zeal and fidelity. Indeed, his 
services had far surpassed the terms of his engage- 
ment. Yet, whoever had been his employers or to 
whatever closeness of intercourse they might have 
thought fit to admit him, he never would have changed 
the bearing of quiet respect which he considered due 
to his bourgeois. If sincerity and honor, a boundless 
generosity of spirit, a delicate regard to the feelings 
of others and a nice perception of what w^as due to 
them, are the essential characteristics of a gentleman, 
then Henry Chatillon deserves the title. He could 
not write his own name, and he had spent his life 
among savages. In him sprang up spontaneously 
those qualities which all the refinements of life and 
intercourse with the highest and best of the better 
part of mankind fail to awaken in the brutish nature 
of some men. In spite of his bloody calling, Henry 
was always humane and merciful; he was gentle as a 
woman, though braver than a lion. He acted aright 
from the free impulses of his large and generous 
nature. A certain species of selfishness is essential 



530 THE OREGON TRAIL 



II 



to the sternness of spirit which bears down opposition 
and subjects the will of others to its own. Henry's 
character was of an opposite stamp. His easy good- 
nature almost amounted to weakness; yet while it 
unfitted him for any position of command, it secured 
the esteem and good will of all those who were not 
jealous of his skill and reputation. The polished 
fops of literature or fashion would laugh with disdaia 
at the idea of comparing his merits with theirs. '. 
deem them w^orthless by the side of that illiterat( 
hunter. 



NOTES 



21, Trail. This word signifies the track followed by the 
hunter, but here it is applied to the whole route taken by 
Parkman from Westport to the Black Hills. This is a proper 
use of the word, since one of the objects of the trip was hunting 
game. 

1. 1846. It was in this year, during the presidency of 
James K. Polk, that the Mexican War began; it lasted a year 
and a half. Notice the abrupt beginning, thoroughly in the 
manner of Ciesar, Xenophon, and other commentators. St. 
Louis was the center of the trade along the Mississippi and the 
Missouri rivers, although in 1846 no railroad had yet reached 
it. It was the starting point for expeditions along the Oregon 
Trail. 

2. California. This country was first visited by the 
Spaniards and it belonged to them until 1822, when Mexico 
gained her independence. In 1847 the United States bought 
it of Mexico for $15,000,000. When gold was found so many 
people settled there that in 1850 California was made a state 
of the Union. Santa Fe was not on the Oregon Trail but was 
reached by another well-worn route running southwest from 
Independence, Missouri. In 1846, there were nearly 480 men 
engaged in trade with Santa Fe. 

22, 1. Wagons. These wagons were not the same kind as 
those used by the emigrants. They were closed in by black 
tops and the traders traveled and slept in them. 

2. Mountain-men. Men who supported themselves by use 
of the rifle and who were skilled in Indian warfare. 

3. Kansas Indians. The tribe was a member of the family 
of the Dacotahs (Dakotas), to whom Parkman refers fre- 
quently. The state of Kansas gets its name from this tribe. 
Like all the Dacotahs, the Kansas was a wandering tribe. 

23, 1. Abatis. A row of the large branches of trees, 
sharpened and laid with the points outward, in front of a 
fortification or any other position to obstruct the approach of 
assailants, 

531 



532 NOTES 

2. Great western movement. Where is Parkman's party 
represented to be at this time? Notice the effect of the bill 
passed by the Senate extending the laws of the United States 
to cover the disputed Oregon territory. 

3. Independence. We have now reached one of the limits 
of civilization in 1846. 

24, 1. Dark slavish -looking Spaniards. This uncompli- 
mentary reference to the descendents of the early explorers 
of the Southwest doubtless reflects the national feeling toward 
Mexico just prior to the outbreak of the Mexican War. 

2. More congenial. Because it offered more opportunities 
for his axe and his rifle. 

3. Westport. This town was an important starting-place 
for expeditions along the Oregon Trail during the early half 
of the nineteenth century. 

25, 1. A round pace. A pace in which the horse throws 
out his feet roundly; a full, brisk, quick trot. This use of the 
word is characteristic of Addison and other eighteenth century 
essayists. 

2. Sacs, Foxes, Shawanoes, Delawares and Wyandots. The 
first four Indian tribes belonged to the Algonkin family, the 
last to the Iroquois. 

3. Garnished. Adorned. Notice the satire. 

4. A round cap, etc. This head-covering, known as a Tam 
o' Shanter, is the characteristic touch that would identify the 
wearer as the inhabitant of another land. The entire de- 
scription of the Captain is an example of Parkman's appre- 
ciation of the ludicrous. 

26, 1. A reinforcement. Parties rarely set out across 
the prairies in numbers less than a dozen, as the danger of 
attacks by prowling bands of Indians was great, and even a 
large body of men found it necessary to maintain constant 
vigilance. 

2. Kentucky fellows. The general term applied to all 
emigrant parties. 

3. Trail-rope. A rope fastened to a horse's bridle and 
trailing behind him, by means of which he could be tethered. 

4. Complacency. A feeling of quiet satisfaction. In 
touches like these, the Captain's character is brought out. 
Notice the egotism in his following speech and, at the same 
time, Parkman's willingness to bestow praise where it is due. 

28, 1. The doctrine of regeneration. The entering into a 
new spiritual life; that change by which man's enmity to God 
and his law is subdued. 

2, The land of promise. A reference to the land of Canaan 



NOTES 533 

promised by Jehovah to the children of Israel. Here the 
epithet is transferred to Oregon and California in the forties. 
It refers to the land of promise. 

3. Buffalo horse. A horse trained to hunt buffalo. 

29, 1. Camp meetings. Religious meetings, held chiefly 
by Methodists, in some retired spot, where they encamp for 
continuous devotion for some days. — Wright. 

30, 1. Dram. As much spirituous liquor as is drunk at 
once, originally a minute quantity. Note that in Westport, 
in 1846, the derived meaning had become the popular one. 

2. Course of the traders. This would be in a northwesterly 
direction from Westport toward the South Fork of the Platte, 
or, in other words, the Oregon Trail. Fort Leavenworth is a 
village and military post in Leavenworth Co., Kansas. 

3. Marked out by the dragoons. General Kearney with his 
dragoons had marched westward in the summer of 1845 
directly to New Mexico, meeting the Oregon Trail where it 
crossed the Big Blue River. Dragoons are soldiers trained and 
armed to serve either on horseback or on foot, as occasion may 
require. 

31, 1. Daniel Boone. An American hunter and pioneer 
(1735-1820). He explored a great part of what is now Ken- 
tucky and lived there until it became a state of the Union in 
1792, when he went to live in Missouri. (See p. 191, 1. 14.) 

32, 1. Harold the Dauntless. A poem of four cantos by 
Sir Walter Scott, an evident favorite with Parkman, who 
quotes from him and refers to him several times in the course 
of the narrative. There is much in common between Scott 
and Parkman in their mutual love of outdoor life and their 
admiration of deeds of chivalry. A study of the quotations 
at the beginning of each chapter will show Parkman's skill 
in choosing appropriate verses to stimulate the reader's 
interest in what is to follow. 

2. Unperverted son of Adam. Any man not turned from 
the right. According to Parkman, the love of nature in her 
wild and untamed moods is an inheritance from our first 
ancestor. 

33, 1. Indian apple. The wild apple, a hardy variety 
which requires no cultivation. The tree blossoms in late 
April or early May, and it is then beautiful and fragrant. 

2. Chatillon. Notice the peculiar appropriateness of 
introducing Henry Chatillon as the foremost of the party. 
Compare him with the other men. 

34, 1. Holster. A leathern case for a pistol, carried by a 
horseman at the fore part of his saddle. 



534 NOTES 

2. Patois. A dialect peculiar to the lower classes. 

3. Sacr§ enfant de grace ! A French curse, which, when 
translated, loses its force; it is typical of a Canadian like 
Delorier. 

35, 1. Presents for the Indians. These were taken along 
to gain the favor of the natives. Remember that it was 
Parkman's intention to remain for some time as a resident in 
an Indian village. 

2. Jean Baptiste. The French Canadians were called by 
this nickname just as an Englishman is designated as John Bull. 

3. Obsequious politeness to his bourgeois. Politeness which 
is servilely or meanly condescending. Delorier never forgets 
hiraself or his station throughout the entire journey — he is 
always "a fawning and knee-crooking knave." Bourgeois 
(pronounced boor zhwa') is the French Canadian equivalent of 
hoss. The word is also used in other places in the narrative 
to designate a man in authority at a fort or anyone super- 
vising the work of hirelings. 

4. The Fur Company. The Rocky Mountain Fur Company, 
established in 1826 by Smith, Jackson, and Sublette to carry 
on a regular trade with the countries of the Columbia and the 
Colorado. See Introduction, p. 16. 

36, 1. Anglo-American. A descendant from English ances- 
tors born in America. Is Parkman's estimate of his compan- 
ions affected by their nationality? 

2. The rifle is the chief arbiter. In all uncivilized countries 
quarrels are commonly settled by force, and he who can wield 
a weapon most quickly and skilfully has the best chance of 
survival. A rifle is usually somewhat shorter than a musket; 
its barrel is grooved on the inside or formed w^ith spiral channels, 
thus securing a rotary motion of the ball and great precision 
in the direction of the aim. 

37, 1.^ Lope. A gait consisting of long leaps. This word 
is peculiar to the United States. The Indians trained their 
horses to adopt this gait, as much ground could thus be covered 
without tiring either steed or rider. 

38, 1. Pawnees. A tribe of the Dacotah Indians, distin- 
guished for its cruelty and treachery. Parkman brings out a 
characteristic of the Indian in the boastfulness of the old 
Kansas. 

2. Motley concourse. An assemblage made up of various 
parts, or perhaps variegated in color. Jaques, in describing 
Touchstone in As You Like It, cries out to the banished Duke: 
*' Motley's the only wear." 

39, 1. Village. The meaning of village throughout this 



NOTES 535 

narrative seems to be the entire community of Indians, whether 
stationary in lodges or travehng with all their belongings. See 
p. 162, 1. 18, and p. 206, 1. 14. 

2. The Methodist Shewanoe Mission. This was a station, 
or residence, of missionaries sent out by the Methodist Church 
to convert the Indians to Christianity and to teach them the 
arts of civilization. 

40, 1 . Epicurean temptations. A dish adapted to luxurious 
tastes. 

41, 1. Hobbled. Having their legs fastened loosely to- 
gether by hobbles, or fetters. See p. 62, 1. 12. 

2. Pontiac. Our author named his horse in honor of the 
famous chief of the Ottawa tribe who had formed a conspiracy 
to drive the English out of the country. Parkman's earliest 
historical work was entitled The Conspiracy of Pontiac. 

3. Plebeian lineage. Descended from common or low stock. 

4. Ogallallah brave. Compare the author's description of 
the young Mahto-Tatonka in Chapter XL Compare also the 
description of Uncas in The Last of the Mohicans. The term 
brave is applied specifically to an Indian warrior. The Crows 
are a tribe of the Dacotah family. 

42, 1. Bivouac. To encamp for the night without tents 
or covering. 

44, 1. Tree. The frame of a saddle. Parkman wishes to 
emphasize the poverty and meagerness of the Indian's trappings. 
He had come to the prairies to observe and record just such 
figures as this old Indian. 

2. Unequivocally. Without doubt. 

45, 1. The Delawares, etc. The Dela wares originally 
inhabited New England, but moved to Pennsylvania; and in 
1848 we find them warring against other Indian tribes as far 
west as the Rocky Mountains. William Penn, the founder of 
Pennsylvania, made a treaty with the Delawares, who kept 
peace with his colony for sixty years. The Iroquois were a 
family of Indians living chiefly in what is now central and 
western New York, They were a brave and cruel race of 
warriors. 

46, 1. Splicing trail -ropes. Again showing that "he had 
been an amateur sailor, " and " how use doth breed a habit in a 
man." 

2. Garrison. The body of troops stationed in Fort Leaven- 
worth to defend the settlement against the Indians and to 
keep the surrounding tribes in sul:)jection. These forts were 
links in the chain of civilization that the United States was 
extending over the West. 



536 NOTES 

3. Jump off. This picturesque phrase is admirably 
descriptive of the plunge into the wilderness of the West. 
Chapter IV tells the beginning of this experience. 

47, 1. Childe Harold. A poem by Lord Byron, which was 
evidently a favorite with Parkraan. It is frequently quoted 
at the beginning of his chapters and on p. 264. See note to 
p. 394, 2. 

2. General Kearney. He distinguished himself in the 
Mexican War, and lost an arm at the storming of the City of 
Mexico, He led the expedition which took possession of 
New Mexico and Arizona. 

3. Block -house. A structure of heavy timber or logs for 
military defense. The sides had loop-holes for muskets; 
and often an upper story projected over the lower or was 
placed upon it diagonally, with projecting corners, to facilitate 
firing downward and in all directions. Block-houses were 
once much used in America and Germany. 

4. Rumors of war. The Mexican War had already broken 
out, and the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma had 
been won by United States troops. 

48, 1. Kickai)oo. A tribe of Indians occupying the country 
along the Mississippi. 

50, 1. Pottawattamies. A tribe of Indians who lived along 
the Great Lakes. At the time of the narrative they seem to 
have lost their original spirit. 

2. John Milton (1608-1674). A famous EngHsh poet. 
Among his most beautiful poems are "L' Allegro," "II Pen- 
seroso," "Lycidas," and "Comus." His greatest work is 
Paradise Lost. 

3. Creole. Generally a person of French or Spanish descent 
who is a native inhabitant of Louisiana or the other Gulf states. 
"The idea that this term implies a mixture of African blood is 
wholly unfounded." — R. Hildreth. 

52, 1. Capote. A cloak with a hood, worn by soldiers. 

2. John Bull. A nickname for an Englishman, here re- 
ferring to the Captain and his brother Jack and Mr. R. 

53, 1. Sixteen -to -the -pound calibre. The diameter of the 
bore is determined by the weight of the bullets it takes, and 
hence also by the diameter of the bullets. Here the large 
scale on which the "John Bulls" of the party had completed 
their outfit is quietly satirized. 

2. Avance done! Go on, now! Like Scott, Irving, and 
other writers of the early nineteenth century, Parkman ac- 
companies his foreign phrases by words that practically express 
their equivalents. 



NOTES 537 

3 Blackstone's Commentaries. The first book which law- 
students study. The phrase here means that trom now on 
every man would be a law unto himseit. ,, ^ ^, . ^, 

4. The Platte, or Nebraska River. Notice that this was the 

^54^^ ^Ivan Mazeppa. Chief of the Cossacks, born in 
Poland in 1644. A nobleman who became jealous of Mazeppa 
had him bound on the back of an untamed horse, which was 
then turned loose. The horse galloped back to the country 
of the Cossacks, where it was caught by some peasants. Mazep- 
pa died in 1709 by taking poison. The lines immediately 
following are from a poem on this subject by Lord Byron. 

55 1. Sacres. A favorite ejaculation with Raymond and 
other French plainsmen. ^ x r +u^ 

56 1 Chinese crackers. Notice the witty contrast of the 
expressions of Wright and Delorier. It is characteristic of 
Parkman's keen observation that he compresses a whole scene 
into a terse sentence which gives a complete picture. 

57 1 Charger. A horse used in battle. Such a term 
applied to the homesick Pontiac was doubtless suggested by the 
first evidence of martial spirit displayed since leaving the 

^^62'^T''^Contumacious. Obstinate. There is a serio-comic 
touch in the dignity of the epithets applied to poor Pontiac 
which reminds one of Don Quixote's steed Rosinante. 

64. 1. Videttes. Mounted sentinels. . 

66 1 Blessing. That one so self-centered m egoism as R. 
should lose the way is not to be wondered at; that Parkman 
and Shaw should be driven to "take French leave was the 

^^2^^ Iowa Indians. Their course was toward the southwest. 

3' Fort Laramie. Here is the clim.ax of the first stage ot the 

loumey. The next four chapters detail the mam features of 

the ride on the St. Joseph Trail and the experiences of buffalo- 

"^T'^S^ven'hUrJd miles to the westward. The journey took 
about a month to accomplish. „ 1 r ^ +u ;^ 

67,1. Mormons. - Latter Day Saints," who found their 
faith upon The Book of Mormon, said to have been written 
by a prophet, and to have equal authority -^ ^Jhe Script^^^^^^^^ 
All who are not of their own sect are termed gentiles by the 

''esTT'^Frnrtics'' Versions affected by excessive enthusi- 
asm,' particularly on religious subjects. 

71, 1. Ensconcing. Covering, sheltering. 



538 NOTES 

73, 1. Dor-bug. The black-beetle. 

74, 1. Apostrophizing. Addressing the frying pan as if it 
had life. 

74, 2. Reclined in classic mode. Stretched at full length; 
resting the weight of the body upon the elbow. This was the 
position assumed by the ancients when reclining on couches 
during the course of a meal. 

75, 1. Galled by attempting to nin in fetters. Their skin 
was bruised or broken by the rubbing of the chains for the 
feet. 

77, 1. Voulez-vous . . . charette. Would you like to 
have supper, right away? I can make a fire, under the cart. 

79, 1. Hibernian. Irish. What is "affecting an accent?" 
Notice the humor. 

81, 1. Period. The period is the usual mark of punctuation 
for a full stop, which seems to be what Parkman has in mind. 

82, 1. Dublin. The Captain must have been a man of 
wealth and influence to possess an ancestral estate near the 
capital of Ireland. 

2. Jamaica. He had hunted in the West Indies, and 
up to the present time had confined himself to British posses- 
sions. The three kingdoms are England, Scotland, and Ire- 
land, now united under the government of Great Britain, but 
originally under separate kings. 

83, 1. Bond Street. The style of the fashionable thorough- 
fare of London, here referred to, appears inconsistent with the 
attire of Shaw and Parkman (see p. 34, 1. 18). Study this 
paragraph carefully and account for the selection of each 
particular detail. 

84, 1. Macaulay's Lays. Lays of Ancient Rome by Lord 
Macaulay, a famous English historian. 

2. Damascus. A city of Asiatic Turkey, in Syria, seldom 
visited by Christian travelers on account of persecutions at the 
hands of the Mohammedans. 

3. Eothen. A work describing the manners and customs 
of the East, the author of which is Alexander W. Kinglake, an 
EngHsh traveler (1811-1891). The authorship of the book was 
for some time unknown, as it did not bear his name. 

85, 1. Unequivocal. Observe that R. is never right, al- 
though he always "knows it all." Only a higher power can 
show his fallibility. 

2. George Borrow. An English writer and traveler (1803- 
1881). For some years he journeyed through Spain to sell 
Bibles for the London Bible Society. In 1843 he wrote 
The Bible in Spaiji, which made him well known. 



NOTES 539 

3. Judge Story. Joseph Story, an American lawyer (1779- 
1845). He became associate judge of the United States 
Supreme Court, and at last head of the Law School of Harvard 
University. His numerous law books, to which R. refers, are 
still in great use. 

4. Competent to enlighten me, etc. British insularity and 
irritating arrogance seem to have been prevalent in the first 
part of the nineteenth century. Charles Dickens was not free 
from these faults, and our own mild-tempered Irving has some 
forcible remarks on the subject in "English Writers on America " 
in The Sketch-book. 

87, 1. Lariettes. Lariats, or lassos, are long cords or 
thongs of leather with nooses, used in catching wild horses and 
other animals. 

2. Penthouse. A shed standing aslope from the main wall 
of a building. This use of the word is an imitation of the usage 
in the old dramatists, as in Macbeth: 

Sleep shall neither night nor day- 
Hang upon his pent-house lid. 

88, 1. Hibernian cavalier. He looked like an Irish military 
man serving on horseback with all the trappings of war, and 
magnifying into an heroic act the securing of a harmless cow. 

89, 1 . Approved principles of woodcraft. Skill and practice 
in cutting up game killed in the woods so that it may serve as 
food. The flesh of cows w^as a rarity to those journeying along 
the Oregon Trail. 

90, 1. Proceeded quietly and rapidly. Notice how pleas- 
antly, how reassuringly the whole work is made to advance 
under the clear directions of Henry Chatillon, the only real 
woodsman in the party. 

2, Brattling. Speaking eagerly and noisily. 

3. Mahomet and the refractory moimtain. INIahomet bade 
a mountain to come to him. When the mountain did not move, 
Mahomet said: "If the mountain will not come to Mahomet, 
Mahomet will go to the mountain." 

92, 1. Old legitimate trail. The "legitimate" trail led 
from the Kansas River northwest and across the Big Blue. 

94, L Oregon or California. In 1846 more emigrants went 
to Oregon than to California. 

96, 1. Down East. The New England states; some of 
tlieir inhabitants, particularly in the rural districts, are charac- 
terized by a tendency to talk through the nose. 

97, 1. Go-ahead faction. They became a faction when 
they decided to "go ahead" under R. in opposition to Kearsley, 
their captain. 



540 NOTES 

2. Allowed. "Down-east" for believed. The phrase, "I 
allow," in the mouth of the New Englander is nearly equivalent 
to ''it is my intention to." 

99, 1. Blackfoot. A tribe of Indians belonging to the 
Algonkin family, living first northeast of the Great Lakes. 

2. Ah! Gui, oui, monsieur! Oh! yes, yes, sir! 

100, 1. Dank. Damp. 

101, 1. Champing. Biting with repeated action of the 
teeth. 

2. Catching it. By the use of this and similar prairie 
phrases several times throughout the narrative, the appropriate 
atmosphere is secured. 

102, 1. Banditti. A group of bandits, or outlaws. Notice 
the formation of the plural, after the Italian word. 

103, 1. Sioux. Notice that this tribe and the Dacotahs are 
the same. See p. 211, 1. 16. 

104, 1. Valley of the Platte. Now comes the long-desired 
goal of many days' riding. R. had guided them nortli instead 
of west to the St. Joseph Trail, along which they had to pro- 
ceed southwesterly until they crossed the Big Blue, thus 
completing two sides of a right-angled triangle. 

105, 1. Sandy plain. This journey up the Platte or 
Nebraska River to Fort Laramie led Parkman through the 
present state of Nebraska. Since starting from Westport, he 
had traversed what is now Missouri, Kansas, and Nebraska. 

106, 1. Cincture. A belt, a girdle. 

110, 1. Bois de vache. Literally wood of cow; dry buffalo 
dung which was burned instead of wood on the plains. 

2. Buttes. Isolated peaks or abrupt elevations of land 
in the central and western parts of North America, too high 
to be called hills or ridges, and not high enough to be called 
mountains. 

111, 1. Tall white wagons. The wagons of the emigrants, 
known as prairie schooners. They had wide tops of canvas 
drawn over large semicircular strips of wood, and fastened at 
the front and rear to form rouncl openings, which served as 
entrance and exit. The wagons were drawn by oxen. 

112, 1. Prickly -pears. A species of cactus, a plant desti- 
tute of leaves and covered with spines. 

116, 1. Led horse. A pack horse, or a spare horse, that is 
led along. 

2. Running is out of the question. Two methods of hunt- 
ing buffalo were commonly practised: "running" and "ap- 
proaching." For a detailed account of the two methods see 
pp. 462-465. "Running" is the more perilous sport of the 
two, but is more exciting and more wild. 



NOTES 541 

118, 1. Mongrel race. Of a mixed breed. 

119, 1. Ebullition. An exhilaration or outward display 
of feeling. 

124, 1. Snaffle. A bridle consisting of a slender bit-mouth, 
without branches. 

131, 1. Pioneers. The first pioneers of Kentucky were 
Daniel Boone and five others who in 1769 went into the 
forests of that region, occupied then only by Indians and wild 
beasts. See p. 31, 1. 8. 

135, 1. German forests. The tribes beyond the Rhine — 
the Vandals, the Suevi, the Burgundians, and other peoples — 
poured from the forests and morasses of Germany and over- 
spread the plains of Italy. Rome was sacked by Alaric, 
their leader, in 410, and by the Vandals in 455. In 476 the 
Roman Empire in the West came to an end, and Odoacer, the 
leader of a small German tribe, became the ruler of Italy. 

141, 1. Cognizance. Knowledge or notice. 

142, 1. Scott's Bluff. In Astor'a by Washington Irving 
one may read the touching story of how this bluff received its 
name. 

146, 1. Macbeth's witches. The three "wierd sisters" 
who inspire Macbeth to murder, in Shakespeare's play. Their 
ugliness may be judged by the following descriptions of them 
by Banquo and Macbeth: 

So withered, and so wild in their attire. 

Her choppy finger laying 
Upon her skinny lips. 

You should be women, 

And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 

That you are so. 

148, 1. Black Hills. A range of mountains in south- 
western Dakota and northeastern Wyoming, 7,400 feet high. 
Parkman includes under this term that part of the Rocky 
Mountains w^hich runs down to the source of the Platte River. 

151, 1. Shongsasha. See p. 277, 1. 19, and p. 354, 1. 14. 

154, 1. Bedizened. Dressed or adorned with false taste. 
They were more interested in their own appearance than in 
their children. 

2. Engages. Employees. 

3. Not traders. There was so much competition among the 
various fur companies that all newcomers at Fort Laramie 
were looked upon as commercial rivals until their identity 
was fully established. 



II 



542 NOTES 

157, 1 . Palisade. A fence of strong stakes, used as a means 
of defense. 

2. Banquette. A little raised way, running along the inside 
of a parapet, on which musketeers stand to fire upon the enemy 
in front. 

162, 1. George Catlin (1796-1872). Painter and traveler. 
He spent eight years traveling among the Indians, of whom he 
painted 470 full-length portraits. He traveled also in South 

166. 1. Monterey and Buena Vista. Battles (1846, 1847) 
in the Mexican War. 

170, 1. Meneaska. White man. 

171, 1. Spanish flies. Brilliant green beetles, common in 
the south of Europe. They are used to make plaster for 
raising blisters. 

177, 1. Rio Grande. A river flowing between Mexico 
and Texas to the Gulf of Mexico; length 1800 miles. The 
illness referred to is dysentery, which became chronic with 
Parkman and which he called "the enemy" in his later writings 
and conversations. 

179, 1. Absinth. Wormwood. It forms the flavoring 
of a cordial of brandy which is popular with the French. 

182, 1. Daguerreotyped. Produced by the daguerreotype 
process, as a picture. This is one of the earliest processes of 
photography, the invention of L. J. M. Daguerre of Paris, first 
used in 1839. 

184, 1. Chugwater. A stream that flows north into 
Laramie Creek. 

186, 1. Capuchin friar. One of the monks of the order 
of St. Francis. Their heads are completely covered with 
pointed hoods. 

2. Irving's Astoria. A work by Washington Irving, giving 
an account of the expedition sent out from New York by 
John Jacob Astor, in 1811, to establish a trading post at the 
mouth of the Columbia River, and of the circumstances that 
led to its failure. See Introduction, p. 15. 

192, 1 . Fort Pierre. On the opposite bank of the Missouri 
from where Pierre, South Dakota, now stands. A journey of 
this kind is another instance of the dauntless spirit of the 
pioneers of the West. 

211, 1. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh. Phihp, a 
chief of the Pokanoket Indians of Massachusetts, in 1675 made 
an alliance with the Narragansett Indians, and began a war 
on the colonists. He was finally killed at Mt. Hope, R. I. 
(Aug. 12, 1676). See "Philip of Pokanoket" in Irving's 



NOTES 543 

The Sketch-book. Pontiac, chief of the Ottawa tribe, besieged 
the fort at Detroit for several months in 1763 but was at 
length driven away. ^ He did not submit to the Enghsh until 
1766. Tecumseh, chief of the Shawnee tribe in Ohio, with 
his brother formed a plan in 1804 to unite all the Western 
Indians against the whites; but his brother was defeated at the 
battle of Tippecanoe, and the plan failed. 
215, 1. Semper Paratus. Latin for ''always ready." 
2. Nestor. In Greek legend. King of Pylos. Being the 
oldest of the Greeks and noted as a soldier, his advice was 
sought by all the other leaders. This old Indian bore a 
similar relation to the members of his tribe. 

217, 1. Le Borgne. The one-eyed. 

218, 1 . Impunity. Exemption from punishment. 

226, 1. Pommes blanches. Literally white apples, found 
on the plains from the Saskatchewan to Texas. They yield an 
edible tuberous root, and are known as prairie-turnips, prairie- 
apples, Cree potatoes, or Missouri bread-root. 

227, 1. Salvator Rosa (I6I57I673). An Italian painter 
who, when a young man, even lived with robbers in order to 
obtain novel subjects for his sketches. His best-known 
pictures are landscapes. 

228, 1. Benjamin West. 'A noted American portrait 
painter (1738-1820) who, after settling in London in 1760, 
painted many famous historical pictures and scenes from 
the Bible. The Vatican Palace in Rome, which West visited, 
contains magnificent art galleries, in one of which (the Belvidere) 
stands the most celebrated statue of Apollo, representing a 
beautiful youth with long hair in the position of just having 
discharged an arrow from a bow. 

231, 1. Egregious. Remarkable, extraordinary. 

232, 1. Pike's Peak. One of the highest peaks of the Rocky 
Mountains, in Colorado, 70 miles south of Denver. It is 14,140 
feet high. It was named from its discoverer. General Zebulon 
M. Pike, who visited it in 1806. 

243, 1. Leatherstocking. The chief character in the 
series of Fenimore Cooper's stories entitled The Leatherstocking 
Tales. 

247, 1. Mount Laramie. The loftiest peak in the range of 
the Rockies, toward which Parkman was now journeying. 

261, 1 . Locust. In the United States the harvest fly is 
improperly called locust. — Harris. 

264, 1 . Mount Auburn. A noted cemetery in Cambridge 
and Watertown, Massachusetts. 

268, 1. Genius loci. Latin for "the genius of the place." 



544 NOTES 

2. Frascati's. A famous Italian restaurant in London, 
named for a town in Italy twelve miles southeast of Rome. 
The Trois Freres Provengaux, or The Tavern of the Three 
Brothers of Provence, was a well-known eating-place in Paris. 
They suggest an extreme contrast with Parkman's half-baked 
bread. 

269, 1. Tom Crawford. The proprietor of the Crawford 
House at the Crawford Notch in the White Mountains, New 
Hampshire. 

290, 1. Et haec, etc. And perhaps it will be pleasant to 
remember these hereafter; from the J^neid by Virgil. 

294, 1, Taos. Fernandez de Taos, county seat of the 
mining county of Taos, in the northwestern part of New Mexico. 

318, 1. Sancho Panza. The fat little peasant squire of 
Don Quixote, in the novel of that name by the Spanish author, 
Cervantes. Sancho was tossed in a blanket because, like his 
master, he refused to pay his bill at an inn. 

319, 1. Fremont's Expedition. An account of surveys 
made by John C. Fremont, the "Pathfinder," in 1842, of the 
frontier of the state of Missouri and the South Pass of the 
Rocky Mountains; and in 1843 of the Great Salt Lake and 
the Columbia and the Sacramento rivers. See Introduction, 
p. 17. 

324, 1. General Kearney's army. See Chapter XXIV, 
first paragraph (p. 490). There were many experiences with 
wolves during the journey down the Arkansas. 

335, 1. Bent's Fort. In the southeastern part of Colorado; 
from this fort the present agricultural county of Bent has 
grown. In the forties it was a well-known trading-post 
belonging to the company of Bent and St. Vrain. 

2. Howitzer. A short, light cannon; it is intended to throw 
large projectiles with comparatively small charges. 

339, 1. Basilisk. A fabulous serpent. The ancients 
alleged that its hissing w^ould drive away all other serpents 
and that its breath and even its look were fatal. 

341, 1. If . . . laughter. A somewhat distorted quo- 
tation from The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith. The 
original reads, ''And what the conversation wanted in wit was 
made up in laughter." 

349, 1. Beetling. Hanging or extending out. 

351, 1. Assented. Assent means to admit a thing as true; 
consent means to agree in opinion or sentiment. Which is the 
correct word here? 

358, 1. Witch-hazel rod. A rod of the witch-hazel plant, 
used by magicians as a charm to discover secrets hidden in the 



NOTES 546 

earth, such as veins of gold, springs of water, and precious 
stones. 

376, 1. Nom de guerre. A war name: a fictitious name 
assumed for a time. 

379, 1. St. Peter's. The cathedral of St. Peter at Rome, 
completed in 1626, is the finest and largest church in the world. 
The vast space in front of the building is thronged with people 
at great religious ceremonies, especially that of the Easter 
Benediction. 

2. Mount Etna. A volcano on the island of Sicily, more 
than two miles high, which has a crater seven hundred feet 
deep. 

3. Passionist convent. The order of Passionists inhabits 
the convent which adjoins the picturesque church of Saints 
John and Paul, in Rome. 

380, 1. Coliseum. An immense oval building of ancient 
Rome, much of which is still standing. It was used for games 
and gladiatorial shows and many Christian martyrs were put 
to death in it. It would hold 80,000 spectators. 

2. Eternal City. A popular and very ancient designation 
of Rome. 

To them no bound of empire I assign. 
Nor term of years to their immortal line. 

Dry den's translation of the JSneid. 

3. Glaciers of the Spliigen. The Spliigen Pass in the Alps, 
between Switzerland and Italy, is 6,930 feet high. The 
glaciers sometimes moved down into the pass, making travel 
dangerous, until Austria in 1812-1834 built a road safeguarded 
by arches of strong. masonry. 

4. Birthplace of the Rhine. The Rhine rises in the Alps 
of Switzerland. The river above Basel, called the Upper 
Rhine, has its course much broken by rapids and falls. 

5. Valley of Andeer. A small settlement in Switzerland 
in an opening between the Alps through which the Upper 
Rhine flows. The wild scenery of the Black Hills recalled 
similar scenes across the Atlantic, which Parkman had seen 
during the summer of 1843. 

394, 1. Dishabille. A loose, negligent dress. 

2. Lord Byron (1788-1824). A famous English poet. 
Note that the majority of quotations which introduce chapters 
of The Oregon Trail are from Byron's poems. He led a wild 
life; hence he is called "the worst of the three." 

397, 1. Mr. Mackenzie. See Introduction, p. 14. Owing 



546 NOTES 

to his connection with the Astoria enterprise and his long 
stay in the Northwest, Alexander Mackenzie had become an 
authority on the dangers attending certain routes of travel. 

2. Captain Wyeth. Nathaniel J. Wyeth, of Boston, had 
made journeys by land to the Columbia River in order to send 
furs to the United States and to China. See Introduction, 
p. 16. 

400, 1. Apocryphal. Of uncertain authority or credit; the 
adjective comes from the " Apocrypha," books whose authen- 
ticity as inspired writings is not admitted. 

401, 1. Goch^'s Hole. A hoUow place among hills, named 
for its discoverer and settler. 

404, 1. Pueblo. Now a city of Colorado, on the Arkansas 
River, 105 miles south of Denver. It is an important railway 
and mining center. 

406, 1. General Kearney's march. An American army 
occupied Santa Fe August 18, 1846, after a march of sixteen 
days from Bent's Fort, General Kearney then established a 
provisional government at Santa Fe. General Taylor's vic- 
tories at Matamoras refer to engagements in the Mexican War. 
Taylor gained the victory of Palo Alto, May 8, 1846; of Resaca 
de la Palma, May 9 ; and occupied Matamoras. 

407, 1. Ponchos. A kind of cloak worn by the Spanish 
Americans, having the form of a blanket, with a slit in the 
middle for the head to pass through. — Simmonds. 

408, 1. Nicolo Paganini (1784-1840). A famous Italian 
violin player, born in Genoa, Italy. He traveled over Europe, 
giving concerts in the large cities. Among his selections was 
one called ''Napoleon," played on only one string. 

409, 1. Strong Hearts. The name of this Indian tribe and 
the qualities attributed to it doubtless suggested to Mr. 
WiUiam C. De Mille the character Strongheart in the play of 
that name. 

2. Tutelary. Guardian. 

414, 1. Long's Peak. 14,270 feet high, in the Rocky 
Mountains, Colorado. The highest mountain in North America 
is usually said to be Mount St. Elias, on the borders of Alaska 
and Canada, which is 18,000 feet high. 

2. Scylla and Charybdis. A dangerous rock and formidable 
whirlpool in the Straits of Messina between Italy and the 
Island of Sicily. In ancient times sailors feared to pass 
between these two dangers, thinking that if they escaped one 
they would be WTecked by the other. Hence, to pass "between 
Scylla and Charybdis" came to mean to avoid one peril only to 
fall into another. Compare the expressions "out of the 



NOTES 547 

frying-pan into the fire" and "between the devil and the deep 
sea." 

415, 1. St. Patrick. The patron saint of Ireland. Tradi- 
tion ascribes to him the banishment of snakes from Ireland. 

2. M. St. Vrain. The partner of Bent in a trading com- 
pany which was well known in the forties (see note to p. 335, 
1). In order to protect their posts, these companies erected 
large forts, such as that referred to here. 

419, 1. Dessauvages! Savages! 

421, 1. Their hand is against every man, etc. A reference 
to the prophecy uttered by Jehovah against Ishmael and the 
Ishmaelites. See Genesis xvi. 

2. Naples. The largest city in Italy, on the Bay of Naples, 
one of the most beautiful bays in the world. Near it is the 
small island of Capri, in which is the Blue Grotto, a large 
cavern as high as a four-story house with deep water inside; the 
walls, roof, and water are of a beautiful blue. 

424, 1. Turkish fashion. With their feet gathered under 
them. 

2. March against Santa Fe. See note to p. 406. 

428, 1. Nauvoo. Formerly the Mormons were settled at 
Nauvoo, Illinois, but in 1845 they were driven from there and 
went to Utah, where at the present time they constitute a 
majority of the inhabitants. 

430, 1. The proprietors. Messrs, Bent and St. Vrain. 

431, 1. Rowel. The little wheel of a spur, having sharp 
points. 

2. Yager. A rifle carried by light infantry. It might have 
been formidable once, but as the sequel shows, it was as useless 
as Wamba's wooden sword. 

433, 1. Mint juleps. A beverage composed of some 
spirituous liquor mixed with sugar, pounded ice, and sprigs of 
mint. 

434, 1. T^te Rouge. Red head. 

2. Vera Cruz. A city of Mexico, on the Gulf of Mexico. It 
is built on low ground and is enclosed by a wall. 

435, 1. Calomel. A mild chloride of mercury, containing 
one more equivalent of mercury than corrosive sublimate. 

442, 1. Flint and steel. They produced fire when struck 
together. See p. 264, 1. 28. 

448, 1. Maxwell the trader. A companion of General 
John C. Fremont in his survey of the route to the Pacific Coast. 
(See Introduction, p. 17.) He was perhaps the best authority 
living at that time on the manners and customs of the Indian 
tribes of the plains. 



548 NOTES 

455, 1. Asseverations. Positive affirmations or assertions. 

456, 1. Expletives. Words or syllables not necessary to 
the sense, but inserted to fill a vacancy or for ornament. 

465, 1. Kit Carson. The famous trapper who was General 
Fremont's guide in the Rocky Mountains. Carson City, the 
capital of Nevada, is named after him. For "running buffalo" 
see note to p. 116. 

467, 1. Canteen. A vessel used by soldiers for carrying 
liquor for drink. 

469, 1. Oui . . . fusil. Yes, well loaded; you'll kill, 
my boss; yes, you'll kill — it is a good gun. 

475, 1. Runnel. A rivvlet or small brook. 

479, 1. Lord Nelson (1758-1805). A famous English naval 
commander. Near Cape Trafalgar, Spain, while sailing toward 
the French and Spanish fleets, he hoisted the signal "England 
expects every man to do his duty." During the battle he was 
struck by a musket-ball. He lived only long enough to learn 
that he had gained a great victory. 

2. Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821). As Consul of France 
he wielded extraordinary power over all Europe through his 
victories in war. 

481, 1. Eton. A public school in England, founded in 1440 
by King Henry VI, and now the greatest school in England. 

2. Richard Porson (1759-1808). An English Greek scholar 
and critic. 

3. Beau Brummel. George Bryan Brummel (1778-1840) 
was distinguished for the exquisiteness of his dress and man- 
ners, and was long the leader of fashion in England. He is the 
leading character in a play of the same name by Clyde Fitch, 
which was enacted for years with great success by Richard 
Mansfield. 

4. Prescriptive right. A right acquired and sanctioned by 
long custom. 

5. Sherry cobblers and brandy toddy. Beverages of which 
the chief ingredients are indicated in the names. 

490, 1. Cimarron. A river 650 miles long, which rises in 
the Raton Mountains and empties into the Arkansas River. 
General Kearney chose the little known route along the upper 
Arkansas, because he could thus reach Santa Fe more quickly. 

2. Price's Missouri regiment. Sterling Price (1809-1867) 
was speaker of the Missouri Lower House, and Congressman 
from that state in 1845-1846. In the Mexican War he com- 
manded a regiment under Kearney. 

3. Subordination. The state of being subordinate or 
inferior to another. 



NOTES 549 

491, 1. Doniphan's regiment. Alexander W. Doniphan 
(1808-1887), colonel in the Mexican War, accomplished amid 
many hardships a difficult march from New Mexico to Chihua- 
hua in northern Mexico, and at the narrow pass at Sacramento 
(Feb. 23, 1847) defeated a Mexican force more than four times 
as numerous as his own. 

493, 1. Springfield carbines. Firearms intermediate be- 
tween the pistol and the musket in length and weight, used by 
mounted troops and made in Springfield, Massachusetts. 

500, 1. Puerile. Childish. 

510, 1. Carriages. These are the same kind of vehicles 
as those mentioned on p. 22, 1. 3, as "large wagons of a peculiar 
form, for the Santa Fe trade." 

520, 1. Fusillade. A simultaneous discharge of firearms. 

525, 1. Kansas Landing. Now Kansas City, the largest 
city of Kansas. 

527, 1. Planters' House. An old hotel in St. Louis, at the 
height of its fame in the period before and during the Civil War; 
it is still standing and is a favorite resort for commercial 
travelers. 

529, 1. Railroads and steamboats. In 1846 no railroad 
ran into -St. Louis. The journey from that city to Boston, 
which can now be made in less than two days, then required 
two weeks. Nothing better than this illustrates the advance of 
improvements since young Parkman "came out of the West." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS FOR 
STUDY 

PRELIMINARY STUDY 

1. Give an account of Parkman's experiences on the 

Oregon Trail, as told in The Life of Francis Parkman 
by Charles H. Farnham. 

2. Tell of Parkman's life. 

3. Read of the founding of Astoria from Irving's Astoria. 

4. Study the historical narrative as literature; read one or 

two selections from Xenophon's Anabasis, Coesar's 
Commentaries, Marco Polo's Travels, the Report of 
Gen. Fremont's Expedition. Study the personal 
element in each. 

DETAILED STUDY OF THE OREGON TRAIL 

1. How is the setting given? 

2. What direction does Parkman take in his journey? 

How is this shown? 

3. Write a lively description of the scene in the camp after 

the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. 

4. What makes the sight of buffalo so welcome to the 

travelers? 

5. What is the purpose of the conversation between 

Parkman and R. about famous literary men of 
England and America? 

6. Explain what the real fault of R. was. 

7. Tell of the action of Parkman's party with regard to 

his leadership and explain its significance. 

8. Explain why the Captain remained with R. 

9. Write a description of the escape and capture of 

Pontiac. 

10. From the first nine chapters select examples of (a) 

historical allusions, (b) geographical terms, (c) 
quotations, (d) foreign words, (e) old-fashioned 
expressions. Show the value of each as it is used. 

11. Why do the emigrants under Kearsley go ahead with 

Parkman's party? 

550 



TOPICS FOR STUDY 551 

12. Why was it an advantage for Parkman not to be a 

trader? 

13. Why was Parkman anxious to have the Indians go on 

the war-path? 

14. Why was his stay on the plains not one of unqualified 

enjoyment? What do you consider aggravated this 
trouble? 

15. What is signified by his giving the feast to the Ogal- 

lallahs? Why was he, for so long a time, a favored 
guest in their village? 

16. Describe the scene at the setting up of the hunting 

camp. 

17. What value is there in the introduction of the Ogal- 

lallahs' belief in the supernatural? What devices 
are used to describe their religious ceremonies and 
their police system? Show the significance of each. 

18. How does Parkman learn of the real nature of the 

Indian? Is his opinion favorable or otherwise? 
Explain your answer. 

19. Explain the application of the stanza from Childe 

Harold, p. 421, beginning: 

Mom dawns, and with it stern Albania's hills. 

Compare it with the application of the earlier stanza 
from Mazeppa (p. 54): ''Man nor brute." 

20. Explain why Parkman and Shaw did not return to 

St. Louis from Fort Laramie by the same route as 
that taken westward by them in the spring. 

21. Describe the scene as Parkman entered the dreary 

recess of the Black Hills, indicating the strongest 
impression which it gives. 

22. How is the humorous element used in Chapter XXI? 

23. What is the effect on Delorier of Tete Rouge's intrusive- 

ness? What do you consider the most effective 
detail in telling of this? 

24. How does Parkman present to us the full nature of 

Henry Chatillon's skill as a buffalo hunter? What 
is that skill? 

25. What is the estimate of Henry Chatillon as given in the 

closing paragraph? 



552 TOPICS FOR STUDY 



STRUCTURE AND STYLE 

1. Study the straightforward style of the narrative and 

explain how this directness is secured. For this 
purpose portions of the narrative should be read 
aloud until the style is completely mastered. 

2. Discuss the structure of The Oregon Trail, its unity, and 

the appropriateness of its division into chapters. 

3. Select examples of long and short paragraphs, and tell 

the value. 

4. Pick out paragraphs that vary from the direct order 

of narration, and explain what you believe to be 
the reason for this variation. 

5. Examine Parkman's vocabulary, its composition and 

power. 

6. Study the strong descriptions, especially in the chapters 

on "The Black Hills" and ''The Big Blue." 

7. Select examples of fine description. Which is used 

in greater proportion: narration or description? 

8. Analyze the scenes in the Ogallallah village, showing 

Parkman's use of details in producing the effect. 

9. Indicate examples of appropriately named personages. 

Of use of anecdote to further the thought of the 
narrative. 

10. Select examples of the use of provincial words or con- 

structions which help to produce the atmosphere of 
the book and to make the characters real. 

11. Select three passages which you consider especially 

effective; specify what has led you to choose them. 

GENERAL TOPICS 

1. Explain what you consider to be the hardships of hfe 

endured by Parkman during his residence among the 
Ogallallahs. 

2. Explain in detail the two methods of hunting buffalo 

and show how they were each followed by Parkman. 

3. Give reasons for or against the statement that Parkman 

and Shaw were justified in ''taking French leave" of 
their companions. 

4. Explain the attitude of the Indians toward the whites. 

Give reasons for or against the statement that ** when 
the buffalo are extinct, the Indians too must dwindle 
away." 



TOPICS FOR STUDY 553 

5. Narrate the circumstances " under which Parkman 

commenced his journey. 

6. Discuss Parkman's use of nature in this narrative. 

7. Discuss Parkman's abihty to describe vividly; to tell 

of an incident graphically. 

8. Compare the trappers and the Indians throughout the 

narrative with the use of the same characters by 
Cooper and Irving. 

9. Discuss the religion of the Indians. 

10. What is the influence of the prairies? Do they make 

one less apprehensive and nervous, or reckless and 
indifferent to both animal and human life? 

11. Make out the geography of the narrative and trace the 

course taken by Parkman. 

12. Explain the incident of the Mad Wolf and the Tall Bear. 

(See p. 345.) 

13. Consider Farnham's statement that "this trip, and its 

record . . . were a striking culmination of his 
(Parkman's) study of nature in her wildest and 
grandest solitudes of prairie, desert, j^forest, and 
mountain." 

14. Many other American writers have written strikingly 

of the Great West; make some comparisons. 

15. Compare The Oregon Trail wuth accounts of other 

expeditions, as The Adventures of Captain Bonneville 
(Irving), Roughing It (Mark Twain), and the chapters 
on the expedition of Lewis and Clark in The Crossing 
(Churchill). Explain points of similarity and of 
difference. 

16. Give an account of Quincy Adams Shaw's relations to 

Parkman. Of Henry Chatillon's association with 
Parkman. 

17. What was the specific purpose aimed at by Parkman in 

writing history? (See Parkman's autobiographic 
letter in Farnham's Life.) 



ABERNETHY'S 
AMERICAN LITERATURE 

By JULIAN W. ABERNETHY, Ph.D. 

Formerly Principal of Berkeley Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y. 

514 pages, 12mo, cloth. Price ^^1.10 

The author's long and conspicuously successful experience 
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The plan of the book includes a brief account of the growth 
of our literature considered as part of our national history, with 
such biographical and critical material as will best make the 
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One of the most interesting features of the book is the supple- 
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The pedagogical merit of the book is indicated by the care 
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which is at once simple and' entirely adequate. At the end of 
each chapter, two lists of selections are provided for each im- 
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The books included in the list at the end of the w^ork con- 
stitute an ample and fairly complete library of biography and 
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CHARLES W. KENT, M. A., Ph. D., Linden Kent 
Memorial School of English Literature, University of 
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I am sufficiently pleased with Abernethy's American Litera- 
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done after a careful examination of nearly all of the college 
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Merriirs English Texts 

COMPLETE EDITIONS 

For Uniform College Entrance Examinations 



Addison, Steele, and Budgell — The Sir 
Roger de Coverley Papers in The 

Spectator' ' 30 cents 

Browning — Poems (Selected) 25 cents 

Bunyan — Pilgrim's Progress, Part I . . • . 40 cents 

Carlyle — An Essay on Burns 25 cents 

Coleridge — The Rime of the Ancient 

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Penseroso, and other Poems 25 cents 

Parkman — The Oregon Trail 50 cents 

Poe — The Raven, Longfellow — The 
Courtship of Miles Standish, and Whit- 
tier — Snow Bound, Combined 25 cents 

Shakespeare — A Midsummer Night's 

Dream 25 cents 

Shakespeare — As You Like It 25 cents 

Shakespeare — Julius Caesar 25 cents 

Shakespeare — King Henry V 25 cents 

Shakespeare — Macbeth 25 cents 

Shakespeare — Merchant of Venice 25 cents 

Shakespeare — Twelfth Night « . 25 cents 

Stevenson — An Inland Voyage and 

Travels with a Donkey 40 cents 

Stevenson — Treasure Island 40 cents 

Thoreau — Walden 50 cents 



Graded Supplementary 
Reading Series 



Classic Fables. For First and Second Grades. 
Selected and edited by Edna Henry Lee 
Turpin. 127 pages, 12mo, cloth 30 cents 

Grimm's Fairy Tales. For Second and Third 
Grades. Selected and edited by Edna Henry 
Lee Turpin. 207 pages, 12mo, cloth 40 cents 

Andersen's Fairy Tales. For Third and Fourth 
Grades. Selected and edited by Edna Henry 
Lee Turpin. 2.53 pages, 12mo, cloth 40 cents 

Stories from American History. For Fourth 
and Fifth Grades. Selected and edited by 
Edna Henry Lee Turpin. 191 pages, 12mo, 
cloth 40 cents 

Stories from Greek History. For Fourth and 
Fifth Grades. By Louise Diman. 239 pages, 
12mo, cloth 40 cents 

Heroes of History. For Fifth and Sixth Grades. 
By Ida Prentice Whitcomb. 448 pages, 
12mo, cloth 60 cents 

Brief Biographies from American History. 

For Fifth and Sixth Grades. By Edna Henry 

Lee Turpin. 299 pages, 12mo, cloth 50 cents 

Part L For Fifth Grade. 142 pages, 12mo, 

cloth 35 cents 

Part II. For Sixth Grade. 163 pages, 12mo, 

cloth ;....... 35 cents 

English History Stories. For Sixth and Seventh 

Grades. 320 pages, 12mo, cloth 50 cents 

The Young American. A Civic Reader. For 
Sixth, Seventh and Eighth Grades. By Harry 
Pratt Judson, LL.D. 259 nag^, 12mo, cloth -^50 cents 

> H 134 8 9 







4 rt. ^^ii^^^^^^'* \0O. 










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